The Lover, the Fighter, the Traitor and the Tyrant
by dmsmf
Summary: Four Transformers. Two armies. One series of sin, redemption, love, power...and the occasional Autobots on Rollerskates gag. Slash. New introductions come with new chapters.
1. Come Listen to a Story

**Come listen to a story about a man named Jed…**

I will be changing the intro as ideas form and shape. Unlike J.K. Rowling, I don't already have most of the story in my head. I know where I want them to go; I just have to push them that way. I also PROMISE to cut these back to shorter stories, in more frequent delivery. Scout's honor.

For the Autobots:

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe

We have established some their personality quirks and their preferences. Seems odd how much people are determined to like them, although I don't. The fundamental flaw with all Sunstreaker/Sideswipe stories is that they ignore something I have seen with almost every sibling in that they grow up and separate. This is especially true with twins, who spend their early years bonding with their wombmate and the rest of their lives trying to get people to treat them like an individual.

For the Decepticons:

Megatron and Starscream

These two have the most complicated relationship in what is supposedly children's television. Hatred? Begrudging respect? Homicidal lust? Megatron went from the most feared commander in the universe to an easy castaway in the movie. How? Something happened to give Starscream the courage and ability to convince the entire Decepticon army to reject their messiah. We'll have to figure it out as we go.

Installments (the / means the flip side's plot):

_Play me:_ Sideswipe decides to try something new. / Megatron is sick of Starscream.

_I'm your boogie man:_ Jazz wants justice. / Decepticon rebellion is in the air, and for once it's not everyone's favorite Seeker.

Other stories coming out of my series. I welcome contributions, betas, criticism, publicity, corrections, etc.

_Father figure_: There are two Primes. So which one is the real one/ Soundwave the philosopher.

_Highway to hell:_ Starscream's a TRIPLE CHANGER? But why in Primus' name did he pick a Geo Tracker as his third mode? He didn't.

_You made me so very happy_: One power couple has finally broken up for good. There was a reason. / Ratbat lives- to the dismay of the other cassettes.

_You got the crush:_ Sunny has a stalker... /…some rumors are just too stupid to be true.

_Fighting the battle of who could care less_: No one wants Arcee. Seriously. / Everybody loves Motormaster.

_Fanfare for the common man:_ Loyalty, in all its convoluted forms.

_Don't speak_: The twins are in separate Decepticon torture chambers and all a blinded Sideswipe can hear are Sunny's screams.

_Free falling_: Nightmares. Insanity. Something's wrong, and Sideswipe can't fix it. / Astrotrain doesn't get his end of the bargain.

_Flip_: There's nothing good in the air. Or on the radio.

_Losing my grip_: Grapple is free game. / You know a vow of celibacy is bad when _SOUNDWAVE_ looks good.

_Yellow_: Sunstreaker did _what?!? _/ Thundercracker's incapacitated and no one cares, an existential foreshadowing that frightens one Decepticon to the core.

_You drive a fast car:_ A Mary Sue walks among us. Too bad she's a Starscream fan stuck with the still-uneasy twins.

_When doves cry_: My tribute to Jane Austen. Somebody loses his battle of wills. / Maybe Scrapper being persuadable isn't a bad thing.

_The night the lights went out in Georgia:_ The twins meet some…characters. / The humans have made a deal with a mechanical devil.

_We belong_: Perceptor fans are going to KILL me. / Megatron fans will too.

_Time after time:_ Forgiveness is a long and winding road. / Shockwave's got a siege on his hands and a broken space bridge.

_I know its wrong, so what should I do_: A Decepticon-only fic, proving that Galvatron's memory is unpredictable.

_Pieces of me:_ Sideswipe takes on the Aerialbots. / Galvatron takes on Predaking.

_In the meantime:_ Everything is upside down. What's a sports car to do/ Astrotrain sets out to find Blitzwing.

_You're all I need to get by_: When all goes wrong, at least Sunny knows who he can turn to. / Cyclonus learns his place in the Decepticon army.


	2. Play Me

The darkest hour is just before dawn? Whatever human being said that had never seen the hour after the Autobots' return from battle. Of course, there was an exception to every rule (was there an exception to this maxim?), but this wry supposition seemed to keep its veracity. Perceptor looked up to watch an agitated Ratchet burst through the door with four seriously injured Autobots dragging themselves behind him.

"Did you hear the alarm _at all_?" the CMO snarled. "You were _supposed_ to be out there defending the base with the rest of us!" Ratchet heaved Gears onto the medbay table as Wheeljack helped Ironhide lay down a few meters over. "Don't tell me you were caught up in another experiment! You'd better have just escaped from Starscream or so help me-"

"Yell later! My circuits are burning!" moaned Gears before the scientist in question could get a word in edgewise.

The white mech growled furiously. "_Perceptor,_ if I don't see you elbow-deep in transistors by the time I come back from disinfecting myself you'll have a tough time tooling around without your slaggin' ARMS!" There was a white blur in his peripheral vision as the red Autobot put down the laser gun he had been working on and began to clean up. Ratchet's growl motivated him to hurry as he moved in to get a better look at the just-arrived Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker had carried his brother in his arms like a bride over the threshold. He placed the wincing red mech onto the table, bellowing for someone to get their tailpipes moving or else.

"I am NOT amenable to threats!" Perceptor protested, transforming back into microscope mode to get a better look at the gaping hole in Sideswipe's chassis.

"You'd prefer my FIST?" Sunstreaker was lead away by Grapple as he shook his clenched hand at his brother's assistant. "Fix him right or get ready to walk funny for the rest of your existence!"

Typical. There was never a dull moment in med bay, but after a battle the area was downright _unpleasant_ when laden with anger, fear, and pain. Perceptor longed for the quiet of his laboratory. If only Wheeljack hadn't blown it up in their first attempt to modify the blaster...but this was not the time to dwell on it. The smoke clearing out of Sideswipe's wound called for his attention.

"This is an unfamiliar laser wound," Perceptor observed.

"Megatron's got a new cannon," Wheeljack called from across the room.

"It bloo up in his fayce af'er shot seyven," chuckled a speech-impaired Ironhide. Half of his jaw had been blasted off.

"You'd know that if you'd BEEN there," Ratchet growled, leaning over Gears.

Perceptor tried to ignore the tone. He didn't want to admit that he'd _meant_ to render aid the minute the alarm went off, but he thought he had reached the conclusion of his blaster developments. He was so close to perfecting a gun that could combat Megatron's ion cannon…if only he had a few more moments to work on it. Not only had he lost his sense of time, but this latest intelligence made his work a moot point. Ratchet didn't follow Optimus Prime's method of assuming that whatever Perceptor did he had good reason.

"Can you fix it?" The scientist almost jumped at the low, gentle voice closer to his audios than he'd expected. Discomfort had modulated his usual flippant tones, sounding like a soft bassoon instead of his slightly squeaky English horn. It caught Perceptor off guard. Sideswipe was trying to keep his sense of humor through the panic but the sparkle of his personality was slightly off-kilter by anxiety. Even while he was sitting up in panic, his attempts to mask the fear were engaging. The scientist realized he was expected to reply.

"Ah-of course. Although I am not familiar with your body-"

"Want to be?" his patient interrupted, navy optics glowing mischievously.

Perceptor fell off of the table in response. ("That had better be the sound of you dropping dead!" Ratchet called.)

"Lay off him, Doc," Sideswipe replied, flopping onto his back with a satisfied chuckle.

Perceptor didn't want to get up off of the floor and face the Autobot. The shock, nay, DARING of Sideswipe!

Actually...Perceptor rose with a stately expression and resumed his work. He liked it. Sideswipe hit on everyone in med bay but him, keeping any interaction with the scientist purely professional, until today. It felt _good_; almost energon pump-stopping.

Sideswipe remained silent as he watched Perceptor finish the job and endure the humiliation of Ratchet insisting on checking his work.

"It looks decent," Ratchet admitted, shutting the Lamborghini's chestplate with a clang and ignoring the microscope's dismay as he returned to Bumblebee. "Now go take a look at Sunstreaker. He says he's all right, but the day he comes out of a battle without a scratch I'm retiring and YOU can have my job."

Sideswipe hopped off of the table and patted Perceptor on the arm. "Thanks!" he called as he hurried after an eager Sunstreaker, who was in turn chased by Perceptor, following Ratchet's orders.

"I told you, geek, I'm OKAY!"

"You may presume that you emerged unscathed, but I am required to inspect you for internal dissention-"

Sunstreaker wheeled around to brandish his blaster in the scientist's face. "I. Am. FINE. Beat it!"

There was no need to tread where he was not wanted; instead other, more important, _less violent_ mechs were attended to as the chaos of the repair area settled into a dull roar that decrescendoed into a low murmur as the last Autobot with problems (Optimus Prime) had his check-up. Ratchet had a quiet talk with their leader, one Perceptor paid no attention to now that he had a new priority in finding an antidote to deflect Megatron's _new_ cannon. He had no idea he'd been called until he felt the tap of a blue hand.

"Status report," Prime commanded, ignoring any called-for preambles.

"In regarding the blaster: work has been subjugated by uncompromising interruptions. I am in need of better facilities than those currently accommodating me."

"Are you saying that med bay isn't good enough?" Ratchet would have a vein throbbing if he were human. Even the calm Wheeljack made a noise of annoyance over that.

"It is sufficient-" Perceptor calmly fitted the gun together. "-but the atmosphere is stifling at times."

Optimus Prime held up a hand to silence the onslaught of protests emitted from the others. "Circumstances being what they are, I am sorry that this is all we have to offer. Your distaste has been registered. Unfortunately, Hoist and Grapple are recovering from the stress of the battle right now, instead of rebuilding the laboratory. You'll have to work with what you have." Optimus turned away, after reminding Perceptor that time was of the essence.

* * *

"I'm aware of that, you idiot!" Starscream was in a bad mood. Blitzwing was getting on his last iota of patience-something that was easy to do on a good day-but, AGAIN, the Air Commander had been blamed for their recent failure to capture the Autobot's newest development. 

The triple changer didn't care. "The cannon had a thermal event," he reiterated. "You have to fix it. You have until Megatron's internally repaired to get it up and running."

"Leave. I have my assignment." Starscream pushed this irritation out of his laboratory and got to work with the remaining cannon scraps he had. Rumble, bored with nothing better to do, came in to watch Starscream trying different alloys.

"Megatron's mad," the smaller Decepticon declared.

"It took you this long to figure that out?" demanded Starscream, leaning into his task.

"No, this time he's _pissed_." Starscream had no idea what that word meant; he decided it wasn't good. It explained why one of Soundwave's tapes was sent here to watch him. Even if it weren't as obvious as Laserbeak, anyone sentient knew Rumble would snitch him out in a minute, making Starscream cautious with his words.

"I surmise he will bring us together for another speech, one that will encourage to us to be more ruthless than ever in battle, as the need for energon is at its most imperative." '_Blah blah blah,'_ he added to himself.

Rumble shook his head. "Nah. He's planning something with the Constructicons and Soundwave. No speech."

"Intriguing..." Something else occurred to Starscream at that moment. "Why wasn't _I_ invited?"

Rumble grinned devilishly. "I told ya he was _mad_…at _you._"

* * *

Peace reigned throughout the ark that night, with the only oasis of noise in the desert of quiet pervading from the twins' room as several Autobots congregated in the double-sized room to _party_! 

Blaster had the music going loud, which was fine since the hosts were smart enough to invite their neighbors. Energon drinks flowed and the amusement continued into the night, except that halfway through the festivities Sideswipe disappeared. Sunstreaker didn't care. He had a bet going with Jazz as to how well he could beat him at Doctor Mario, and he was very close to losing. Besides, Sideswipe could take care of himself. Hound and Mirage were making out on the couch; Bluestreak was learning to breakdance with disastrous (but funny) results while Trailbreaker threw darts with Powerglide and Skids. Whatever Siders was doing, he would return shortly.

Sideswipe had gotten bored. Well, not exactly bored; more like apathetic. Parties were fun, especially theirs, but something was nagging at him as he walked the dark quiet hallways around the ark in search of more guests/energon providers. He knocked on Gears' door.

"Go away, Skyfire!" bellowed the other side of the door. Sideswipe decided to let him be. The nagging thought was a strange one: how the medics, mostly impersonal hands (and one LOUD voice) had never really registered in his database as real mechs until he had seen the disconcerted expression on Perceptor's face after his casually flirtatious joke. He had not recognized the scientist's existence until that moment.

He wasn't bad looking. Now that Sideswipe considered it, he was kind of...well...cute. His face was, at least. How about the body?

Sideswipe walked into the med bay (after discovering a compromising situation involving Tracks) when a noise caught his attention. Perceptor had fallen asleep in microscope mode again, his snoring rattling the beakers around him. Usually when he was like this the twins would move him around or some other prank, but Sideswipe had another motive this time. He rapped on the doorway.

"What? Who?" Perceptor transformed in sleepy confusion and looked around. "Skyfire? Oh. Hello." He awkwardly tried to look cool by leaning on the table, missing it completely and nearly falling to the floor. Sideswipe smiled his friendliest at the awkward mech as he tried to ignore the embarrassing moment. "What time is it?"

"Party time," the Lamborghini replied, leaning against the doorway and looking a lot cooler than Perceptor. "We're having a get-together at our place. Come on over."

The scientist looked down at his hands as he shook his head. "Thank you, but I am in the middle of a project that is imperative to our defense."

He had a beautiful body. Sideswipe witnessed an interesting fantasy ease into his mind, one that made him smile wider as he tried to concentrate on what the other was saying. "Really?" He walked into the room and sidled up to Perceptor, using his 'bright and curious' voice. "What is it?"

As he launched into a lengthy technical diatribe the fantasy in Sideswipe's processor became more elaborate. Against the wall, in Prowl's office chair, both screaming their vocalizers out. Now, how would he get this mech to agree to something like that? Perceptor was not the most outgoing person. He was friendly, usually polite, just... (the word Sideswipe was looking for was 'condescending')… not down with the rest of them. Well, Siders could fix that. The scientist accidentally brushed against him while gesturing enthusiastically. The touch was electric.

He did not know that although Perceptor was deeply involved in his description, another train of thought was passing through the scientist's processor: Sideswipe was very attractive. For some reason both he and Sunstreaker had this amazing charisma guaranteeing that wherever they went, life would follow. They could captivate a crowd. Like two sides of a magnet forming a powerful pull, the two together attracted all they came in contact with. Right now Perceptor felt a little warm looking at the more positive side. It was not a good thing, though, since both Lamborghini brothers had done something unspeakable to Skyfire, forcing Perceptor to fight his desire more than he might if this were, say, Prime. He tried to focus on something else.

"-therefore, we can utilize the blaster proficiently against Megatron's attacks with said magnification." Sideswipe nodded, commenting on the usefulness of something like that. Perceptor enthusiastically smiled, not used to having someone hang onto his every word. Sideswipe leaned over to see the blaster, elegant fingers resting lightly the lab table, navy optics glittering with lighter blue sparkles as they peered into the gun's barrel. Perceptor was entranced. For a moment, no one spoke.

As if some unspoken cue woke him up from a dream, Sideswipe stood upright. "I should get back to the party. Are you sure you don't want to come?" Perceptor politely declined the invitation, claiming work. "That's okay. I'll talk to you later." He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway to see if Perceptor was watching him leave. Embarrassed, the scientist realized he'd been caught and tried to recover by dropping the weapon. Sideswipe left chuckling to himself.

* * *

The Constructicons had plans for a bomb that would be cleverly disguised as a doomsday device. It looked like a ray gun...it drew energy from a nuclear power plant like a harvester...and it had space bridge parts to further confuse Mirage and/or Skyfire/Wheeljack when they came to inspect it. Scrapper and company promised foundation results by the end of the week. In the meantime, the Decepticons would fix the wounded while those not seriously marred by battle would go on an excursion and Starscream would create a better ion cannon, one that was not like anything else seen by Autobot or human, therefore impossible to combat. 

Megatron hated spreading his forces so thin, but he was yielding few results when they were concentrated, and for this latest trap to work he had to better confuse the enemy. Cursed Autobots! They outnumbered his force on this planet almost two to one, forcing him to constantly scheme and plot in order to gain the upper hand. _This_ plan would work. Their attack had uncovered that Perceptor (absorbed in his lab as usual and failing to notice Ravage and Buzzsaw reading his notes NEXT TO HIM) had a plethora of new ray guns. A few even had some chemical compounds Megatron was sure Starscream hadn't tried.

Once they were back at base Buzzsaw played back the information, including notes and drawings. When Starscream admitted that yes-although human chemistry was vastly inferior to theirs, some of these combinations could produce a few lethal weapons-Megatron charged him with finding a way to make one of these an explosive. Starscream would work on that day and night with progressive results, somewhat pleasing not just Megatron. Giving his Air Commander homework made more than one Decepticon happy.

That should keep him busy. It gave the silver mech time to make a decision: Starscream had outlived his purpose, nearly destroying his leader with the latest gun fiasco, still loudly proclaiming his one day usurping him, being a genuine irritation, etc. Megatron was sick and tired of him. Starscream had to go.

* * *

The party broke up early when Ironhide walked in and threatened to put them all on oil change duty if they didn't get a decent night's recharge for tomorrow's company-wide meeting. 

Sideswipe came in later and didn't say much until after the conference, where Optimus Prime announced that he had made contact with Ultra Magnus again, although there was nothing going on at home. When the meeting broke up Sideswipe stopped to talk to Mirage about the party; the corner of his optics aware of Perceptor as he consulted with Wheeljack and Hoist over something. He saw that the microscope was staring at him almost openly. Sideswipe smiled and waved, causing a moment of confusion. Perceptor nervously waved back and excused himself, to the visible relief of his audience. The scientist's reaction had the Lamborghini thinking.

Sunstreaker looked up from rifling through their cabinet as his roommate sauntered in. "I think Tracks has been stealing my polish again," he grunted, glancing at the small container. "I could swear I had a full can yesterday."

His growling was ignored. "What do you think of Perceptor?" Sideswipe asked abruptly. He and his brother always spoke in an emotional shorthand that produced discomfort to anyone who thought they should pad their dialogue with subtlety and refinement. They had better things to do with their time.

Sunstreaker smiled sardonically. "He's the one that hangs out with R2D2, right?"

Sideswipe uneasily laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

Now the bright yellow Lamborghini regarded him suspiciously. "Why?"

"No reason."

"Yeah right. You have a _thing_ for geeks." Sunstreaker didn't want to remind his brother about the Skyfire Incident until he had a decent bon mot to accompany that particular nasty recollection. "This is why _I_ know how to pick 'em and _you_ end up alone."

"Your choices weren't that great!" Sideswipe sneered indignantly. "_Bluestreak? Mirage? Hound?_ That pink medic on Cybertron? What about that jet, what's-her-name-"

"Watch this." Sunstreaker opened their chamber door and called a passing Trailbreaker over. "Who would you rather do, Starscream or Perceptor?"

"Starscream," the black mech replied without hesitation.

"Uh-huh. Hey, Ironhide! C'mere! Informal poll," he explained as Ironhide, Skids, AND Powerglide sauntered over. "You and Perceptor and Starscream are the last mechs on Cybertron. Who would you get with?"

"Stahrscream."

"Depends. Can we shoot Starscream when we're done?"

"Cut my wings off, Starscream, Perceptor, Astoria, DEATH. In that order."

Sunny grinned. "Gears! Informal poll: Who'd you do, Screamer or Percy?"

"I hate this poll. But, if I can take an acid shower after, Starscream."

"I get the point," Sideswipe muttered behind his brother as more Autobots came over to throw in their own opinions.

"Screamer, if his vocalizer's been shot out."

"Perceptor's kind of cute." That was Huffer, most likely being contrary for the heck of it.

"Oh, come on! GRIMLOCK's kind of cute! Perceptor is a pain in the tailpipe!"

"Perceptor. Starscream's a lousy kisser."

Red Alert had to duck projectiles as more than one Autobot shrieked in horror. "How in the Pit do you know THAT?"

"I've known him longer than you have!" he retorted.

"You're not allowed to fight him one-on-one anymore!"

"Can we just shoot ourselves and avoid both of them?"

Brawn broke the whole congregation up by telling them if they didn't quit slamming Perceptor he'd kick their skidplates into next Tuesday. Sunstreaker asked him the same question.

"Starscream," he answered. "Perceptor's never been kissed 'cause he promised his creator he'd wait until he was bonded."

Sunstreaker closed the door after Bluestreak came in to tell them what was up in his neck of the ark. "Why the poll? It seems like a weird either-or to me. Maybe if it were one of you guys versus the other, now that's a toughie, I mean, you're both pretty hot, or if it were Sunny versus Tracks-"

"Siders' thinking of going to the dark side," Sunny stated, face solemn as he inspected the underside of his arms in the wall-length mirror for visible polish lines. Sideswipe glared. Bluestreak would have it all over the ark before nightfall.

"Good grief! You have a thing for STARSCREAM?"

"Shhh! _No_, I don't. We were kidding." The red mech whapped his brother on the back a little bit harder than usual. "Sunny thought I was doing something funny to Starscream the other day when I kicked his afterburners and the joke kind of got out of hand."

"Oh, right. Sunny can do that," the young mech said understandably. "Like that week he had everyone thinking they forgot my birthday and I had to keep telling them no, it wasn't my birthday, but he'd said I would say that 'cause I didn't want anyone to make a fuss over me and so they planned a party-"

"Yeah. Like that." Sunstreaker eyed his brother sitting back on the couch, arms behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that suggested he was planning something. "So why are you really here, Blue?"

Bluestreak gave a mock-hurt expression before smiling sweetly. "I thought you'd like to know that Mirage and Hound broke up again."

If Sunstreaker were a sleeping cat his head would have popped up at the news. "Did you hear that? Somebody's in need of comforting." He grabbed his blaster and ran for the door. "Dibs on Hound!"

Sideswipe looked away from the spot above him that had merited his concentration and shook his head in disgust, sitting up. "You're a WHORE!" he shouted at Sunny's retreating back.

"And you want Starscream!" came the reply. Slag. Bluestreak's optics widened to the size of Ultra Magnus' and it took firm assertions that it was a JOKE to narrow them back to normal, but the Lamborghini was pretty sure the damage had been done and he'd better get to work on Perceptor before the whole Autobot faction gave him the same disgusted look Red Alert received this morning.

* * *

When energon fields are shared, it produces an amazing euphoria that, coupled with sensory overload, makes for a pleasant distraction. Sideswipe would have called that an understatement. "Processor-blowing electric explosion worth chasing tailpipe down to get" fit more into his personality. Unlike spark-linking, it was not a melding of souls but more of a sharing of electrons; similar to humans exchanging body fluids. An often stifled consideration was that in organic co-mingling the sapient beings picked up the resident bacteria of their partner. This is comparable in Transformer play when a residue of one's own electrons remained after an interaction with another mech. 

Unless the Autobot had never done it before.

If what Brawn had said was true, then an untouched mech walked among them, a pool of electrum no one had ever dipped a toe into, a blank canvas waiting to be painted on, something so rare (in an era when almost everyone's first time was with their mentors) the very idea sent Sideswipe's energon into overdrive.

Most Autobots did not view it that way. As a mech did not go to the newly-created medic when wounded, no one went to the untouched for social comfort. Sideswipe, self-proclaimed connoisseur of energy fields, desired the scientist's innocence like Lina Inverse would Dragon Cuisine. It would be better than Skyfire's "I've only had two" and MUCH better than Gears' "I haven't had Red Alert."

Seduction is a game of its own, requiring a fine-tuned sense of psychology and manipulation, two things a warrior did not posses. The challenge called to Sideswipe, promising a status to impress anyone and an amazing benefit. Brawn's comment had been inspiration to undergo the most arduous task of the Lamborghini's peacetime occupations: outsmarting Perceptor.

* * *

The doomsday device needed some kind of authority to lend itself authentic to the Autobots, suggesting that they use a devious number of visual tricks to establish this. 

The first had been to plan to hook it up to a nuclear power plant in Toledo, Ohio to make it more of an energon harvesting threat. Rumble wanted to know why they didn't hook it up to the one in Springfield, which prompted an investigation leading to the realization that Rumble watched too much TV.

Their second trick was to produce it as an elaborate (but not _too_ elaborate) weapon development that might suggest they were planning another hostile takeover.

The third trick would be the clincher: they had to concoct a legitimate threat that would convince the Autobots to storm the bomb as one unit, so that when it went off and caused a nuclear holocaust NO Autobot would survive, not even from the fallout. Rumble asked if any would become radioactive superheroes, which caused him to be sent away with the task of convincing Starscream to be the one to operate the doomsday device: to make it look real, and the added bonus of getting rid of the troublemaker.

That was a ploy Rumble seemed to anticipate with pleasure.

* * *

A few hours later Sunstreaker returned with a sour expression and a sharp tongue. All he wanted to do was rile his brother over his latest interest. 

"Make sure you take your shoulder missile off before you get it on." Sunny never missed a moment to taunt him. Sideswipe snickered at the idea, encouraging his brother to surmise that Perceptor would use a protractor to find the exact angle to get Sideswipe most excited. This made them laugh harder. His surly mood melted, leaving him slightly more jovial than a pit bull.

"Speaking of shoulder accessories, how's Hound?"

Sunstreaker grunted in disgust as he put his old blaster away and retrieved a new one. "I had to get in line, so I left and did target practice for the rest of the day. Let's go, we have patrol." The mech paused for a moment, swearing that Tracks was going to get it, there was more polish missing. Sideswipe shrugged, asking why Hound didn't let Sunny cut in front of the line, being the second most desirable Autobot in the group. Sunstreaker had no idea. "Just as well. He'll be back together with Mirage by tomorrow morning."

"Or he'll cut into your chase for the nerd."

"There's a line for him, too." Perceptor's first and second loves were his work.

"I bet. Watch out for that one, bro, or he'll turn psycho on you like Skyfire did."

Both walked out to report for work with the eagerness of a child on his way to the dentist. "Skyfire wasn't that stable to begin with. Besides, this is Perceptor."

Perceptor...who would suspect? It was perfect. Sideswipe had to have someone, so it might as well be a mech who knew four syllable words and how to split atoms. It was kind of cute, not like the cute but stupid loudmouths Sunstreaker seemed to prefer. (Sunny took offense to that.) And if what Brawn had said was true, well, that just made it more appealing. How flattering to be the set precedent for all future encounters!

"It still sounds bad to me."

"Glad I'm the one doing it, then." Sideswipe smiled to himself.

The main issue was how.

* * *

Starscream's newest weapon had impressed few; only he knew how to use it. Megatron, immersed in the doomsday device and still mad at Starscream for an unexplained reason, snarled through the telecom that he'd better start building user-friendly versions or he would be picking his wings up off the floor while he still stood upright. 

Rumble watched him as he threw things around his lab in irritation. "Don't have a cow, man."

"Are you going to speak Cybertronian or may I begin calling you Jazz?" Starscream sneered in response, annoyance changing directions mid-impulse. "Megatron is making plans without me! How can he do _anything_ without the aid of his Second-in-Command?"

"Third," Rumble supplied. "He moved Soundwave up to _your_ spot until he likes you better."

Starscream stared. "_WHAT!_"

Rumble nonchalantly shrugged. "I guess you're not trying hard enough."

There was a moment of heavy silence as this was mulled over. The small cassette wondered if he had pushed too hard, blowing his cover and ruining the fun. Starscream's optics smoldered a furious lava red.

"We shall see about that," he hissed, turning back to the ion cannon pieces. "If you are going to hover like a drone, be of some use to me! Go to the supply closet and get me twelve of these!" The scientist held up a common part, ignoring the other mech's protests and presenting his null ray. "I don't care if you're only here to watch! Mobilize!"

That was it. Rumble obeyed, trying not to crack up at how easily Starscream could be lead to self-destruction.

* * *

Wheeljack devised a new blaster for the Autobots to try out, one that used Perceptor's new laser concentration to combat Megatron's next cannon creation. Being a prototype, they needed mechs who were not afraid to try it out, and who would be technical enough to be able to make constructive criticism. That penned the twins and Bluestreak to test it and report back. The gun went to Sideswipe first. 

This was his big chance.

"I shall transport it to him," Perceptor volunteered.

Ratchet shrugged and tossed over to the scientist, who did not catch it properly, causing it to crash and break. "Fix it," the CMO commanded. "Spare parts are in the closet in section 6-B."

It had a broken mirror but that was about it. As he repaired the problem Perceptor planned his attack. He had to be bold, completely out of character. He would assault Sideswipe with kisses (he hoped he had seen enough from earth TV and Spike to get the idea of what to do), and tell him how bad he wanted him. Sideswipe would take it from there, Perceptor hoped, and lead him through the machinations. Should the scientist's attempts be rebuffed, he could deny any backlash from others by claiming he would _never_ be that impulsive.

Now, the ruse that would bring Sideswipe to him, that was the tough part. After much consideration (and moments to cease what he was doing to calm down the nervousness that superceded his logic while dodging the irritated Ratchet who demanded to know what was _wrong_ with him for Primus' sake) Perceptor had an idea. He carefully jiggled the barrel of the gun loose enough to be noticed upon closer inspection by the average Autobot and immediately by the more enthusiastic blaster users. Perfect.

The hallway to the twins' chambers seemed to telescope into something long and arduous. Perceptor kept his calm by slowly reciting the earth's periodic table of elements in his database. Hydrogen, atomic number 1, weight 1.00794. Helium, atomic number 2, weight 4.002602. Lithium, atomic number 3, weight 6.941. He was up to Sodium, number 11, weight 22.989770, when he knocked on the twin's chamber door.

Sunstreaker appeared on the other side, a contemptuous smile emerging, one that made Perceptor very uncomfortable.

"What?" he demanded with hostility.

"I need Sideswipe." That didn't sound right. Perceptor kept his composure. "Is he available for discussion?" Magnesium, number 12, weight 24.3050.

"Oh, yeah… Hey, Siders. The geek _wants_ you. Bad. Right?" Sunny looked back at his guest with a nasty leer.

"I beg your pardon?" Now the scientist was off guard. Had Sunstreaker figured out his attraction already? Perceptor's processor reeled as he told himself to remain calm. Aluminum, number 13, weight 26.981538. Silicon, number 14, weight 28.0855.

Sideswipe shoved his brother aside, grin slightly embarrassed. "What's up, Perceptor?"

Phosphorus, number 15, weight 30.973761.

"We have developed a new blaster to combat Megatron's revised ion cannon," he explained, handing it to the waiting black hands. Both nodded, having experience this kind of consumer product testing before.

"No, wait, the barrel's too loose." Sideswipe handed it back to Perceptor, who backed away instead of accepting it.

"We must have utilized the wrong barrel type," the scientist recited, recalling his concocted script. Sulphur, number 16, weight...oh...he knew this..."What is the classification number?"

Sideswipe took a step closer, checking the engraving on the handle. "52678, LTPA." Again he made a move to return it, to which Perceptor responded by beginning to walk away, calling that it was the right barrel, but maybe a 52679 would be more suitable, and if Sideswipe would like to accompany him, he could try one out there. 32.065, that was the weight. Chlorine, number 17, weight 35.453. Sideswipe, who was used to being delivered his accessories, watched Perceptor walk away, pause, turn back and ask if he were coming, and resume his walk. Sunstreaker, amused, hissed for Sideswipe to go ahead, maybe he'd get something _useful_ in the closet.

The walk was long. Sideswipe did not walk next to him, either, making it more awkward. Perceptor was afraid he was walking alone, so he did not say anything to him. That and he was too nervous to do anything but continue the periodic table, as well as the plan.

They would get far enough into the closet that all Perceptor would have to do was pretend to reach over for the barrel behind Sideswipe and-oops!-wrap an appendage around him. Then he would DO this. Another part of him analyzed the physical activity that riled his body as he tried to imagine what Sideswipe would be like in his arms. Another part feared a negative reaction. Tin, number 50, weight 118.710.

He walked in and turned to the left, hearing footsteps behind him, followed by the door closing them inside. For a moment it was dark, airless. Perceptor wildly groped around and found the light, turning it on to see that he was face-to-face with the Lamborghini.

He was incredibly handsome. Some said his brother was perfect, but Sideswipe was so much more approachable, so much more...real. His face had expression, his shoulders nobility, his arms power. His chestplate bore a scowling Autobot symbol that seemed out-of-place with the playfulness his own face displayed when he walked, or when he ran and his lips curled in determination, like a charging rhinoceros. Sunstreaker scowled while Sideswipe smiled, making a bright spot in their yin/yang pairing. _'I have to do this now,'_ Perceptor thought to himself. Antimony, number 51, weight 121.760. The gun handles were behind the red and black mech. '_Just reach over and do it.'_ Tellurium, number 52, weight 127.60.

Sideswipe, his almost-black eyes glowing with a sweet amusement, held up the blaster like a rare gift, beatific smile perfect. Perceptor's energy pump stopped beating. "So where is it?"

Suddenly the microscope lost his nerve. He couldn't do it. He wasn't that kind of Autobot, and never would be, no matter how much he wanted to change to spend time with this mech. Fear overtook him as he quickly reached around Sideswipe and handed him the piece, hurrying past him to go outside while cursing his cowardice. It was not meant to occur.

"Perceptor?" The voice was still amazing to his audios. He sounded as though any minute he would crack up laughing. That made sense, considering what a joke it was to think someone as amazing as Sideswipe would even respond to someone like him...

Trying to mask the disappointment he had for himself, Perceptor turned back and kept his countenance professional. "Yes?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

That was a strange question. "I will be in the repair bay, naturally," he explained. "Unless there is another battle." Why did he want to know that?

Another smile, this one wide, warm, and lacking any pretense. It fanned Perceptor's spark significantly. "Do you want to come over and hang out?"

In a fog of confusion nothing was processing. Hang out? "What is that?"

Now he laughed out loud. "Sit around. Talk. Watch movies."

Perceptor recalled what the phrase meant, feeling foolish for not being able to remember the definition faster. Be in a room and be awkward with this perfect specimen of a mech for an undetermined amount of time...the idea filled him with terror. He took a step back.

"That seems isolating."

"We could double date," Sideswipe offered hopefully.

A double date with Sideswipe, his evil twin, and an unknown party; where if he didn't go he'd miss the entertainment opportunity of a lifetime, not to mention building rapport with Sideswipe. Perceptor decided to accept the invitation, if not for sociological reasons, then for the sheer amusement it would bring. "Certainly," the scientist replied, moving quickly for his escape so no one would see his wide smile.

* * *

"Are you crazy?" demanded Sunstreaker, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. It would have been more convincing if he weren't facing the mirror as he did it. "You want me to risk my reputation-OUR reputation-by going on a double date with the second most boring mech on the planet?" 

Sideswipe wanted to point out that the first, Ultra Magnus, was on _Cybertron_, but that was irrelevant. "Help me out," he begged. "I'll find someone for you to talk to. Somebody fun. Please?"

Sunstreaker sighed in defeat. The 'P' word was not used often, keeping its potency alive. "They'd better be hot."

* * *

Hot or not, the two were late. Sideswipe kept his energy level calm, mindful of all of the actions he'd taken this evening to keep it interesting, and how the whole stack of cards would fall if ANYONE was later than they already were and their dates wasted another minute getting here- 

"Hello!" called a mellifluous voice in the hallway.

Sunstreaker turned away from the mirror to glare at his brother. "Tracks? You got me _Tracks_?"

Sideswipe shrugged, opening the door for their arch-rival Autobot. "Talk about polish." He didn't get the joke. "Seriously, bro, he was the only one who would do it, and that was because I blackmailed him." Tracks should learn to watch his back when he was doing something wrong. The blue Corvette swept in regally, a slightly sheepish Perceptor following close behind. "Sorry we're late. _Someone_, and I'm not saying who, almost lost track of time working in his rebuilt laboratory." Tracks grinned, handing Sunstreaker a new bottle of Turtlewax. "I _assumed_ you had no interest in flowers."

Sideswipe covered his mouth as Sunstreaker stared incredulously at the product, unsure how to react to this. He didn't have to; Tracks was already asking Sideswipe what they were doing tonight, since he'd just been through the wash and was DYING to show off his new bodywork.

"I'm not going ANYWHERE in public with either of you two," Sunny snarled as he threw the wax into his cupboard. "I'd never get laid again!"

Tracks' grin never wavered. "Excellent! I win either way! What _is_ the night's entertainment, Siders-may I call you Siders?"

"No." Sideswipe checked his internal chronometer as he exchanged a secret smile with Perceptor, who hadn't abandoned the doorway. "You can come in," he called softly.

"Yeah, he took his missile launcher off." Sunstreaker was NOT going to let this be easy.

"Don't listen to him," Sideswipe snorted, grabbing Perceptor's hand and dragging him farther away from the only escape route. He lowered his voice. "He's in a bad mood 'cause he realized I'm the better looking guy."

"You may have the looks, but I have the brains," Sunny replied, playfully shoving his brother and scaring Perceptor enough to make him retreat over to where Tracks stood.

"Primus help us if that's true," Tracks interjected.

Perceptor smiled quietly, no quip provided. He had run out of earth elements, Cybertronian elements, and any other elements he could think of to calm down, now he was just nervous. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged glances as someone pounded on their door.

"The entertainment's here!" exclaimed Sideswipe, motioning for all of them to follow him.

* * *

He had worked himself and Rumble to a frenzy (no pun intended), but the results left the Decepticon leader unimpressed. Megatron tried the gun outside on a passing human airplane, nodded approval at its explosion, and dismissed his Air Commander once they were back inside. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Starscream prodded.

"No." Megatron didn't have to hide his sadistic bend on making Starscream miserable, but it added to the effect when he did.

"Megatron! I am your most valuable asset! How can you justify making SOUNDWAVE your Second-in-Command?" He didn't want to sound like a whiny child but it came out that way, to the Seeker's dismay. Maybe it was a defense mechanism in that making the complaint sound petulant would keep Megatron from knowing what really hurt Starscream's feelings.

"Recall," the silver mech snarled from his throne, "How during our last battle with the Autobots, which was against your wishes, you proclaimed that should anything happen to me you wanted my head for a souvenir."

"You heard that?" The blue arms wavered from the exasperated pose they had dramatically held.

"I hear _everything_ you say to me." It was a lie. Starscream was easy to read and his fellow minions were tattletales.

"I-I-I-"

"Cease your sniveling! When you can prove to me your loyalty I MIGHT restore your position!" Megatron waved his dismissal, which was Scrapper's cue to come in and state they needed a controller for their energon collector.

Starscream was more than willing; he was insistent. Like shooting Autobots stuck in the mud. Everyone's mentality should be this malleable.

* * *

Prowl motioned for the brothers to come out into the hall. Seeing an elephant and a llama in their room were the only other things that would surprise him more than Tracks and Perceptor's accompaniment. Luckily, Prowl was good at suppressing his reactions. 

'_So they finally ran out of mechs to harass,'_ he wryly concluded. Sunstreaker wouldn't look at him.

"When I ordered you to find out who was stealing my office supplies, I assumed you were going to ask Red Alert to install a security camera. NOT," here he gestured to the other Autobots who glowered en masse, "coat everything I own with Superglue."

Sunstreaker's face deepened into a scowl. He knew what was coming. As he searched the crowd, his processor raced. Jazz, sheepishly grinning, held up the telephone receiver stuck to his hand. Warpath had a stapler. Grimlock shook his body, trying to dislodge the chair attached to rear end, to no avail. Optimus Prime had half a datapad; Prowl the other. Powerglide held his hand up to reveal the stack of pens adhered to his arm. A thinly restrained chuckle came from the red twin.

Shooting Sideswipe a 'you owe me' glare, Sunstreaker put a vise grip on Tracks' arm and broke into a run. Grimlock, Powerglide, Warpath, and the now-detected Mirage (waving a printer cartridge in their direction) followed suit as Prowl turned back to the responsible party. Perceptor stepped in front of the red Lamborghini and smoothly volunteered to find an antidote.

Optimus Prime nodded at Prowl's questioning expression. "You have one hour."

* * *

It was unknown as to when Megatron acquired the talent to read Starscream's thoughts. 

All the Seeker knew was at the most inopportune times his commanding officer could glower him for unuttered resentment and Starscream knew EXACTLY what had happened. When he asked other Decepticons about it, they all shrugged and admitted that yes, he had heard their inner processing from time to time, but it was not a big deal. Megatron owned them.

The day Starscream had demanded to operate the new energon collector Rumble confessed how this phenomena had occurred: Soundwave had implanted cookies into their processors after an energetic victory celebration knocked most of them out cold. Megatron had no control over which cookie his processor had access to at what time, but when the planets were aligned the right way-POW! Starscream got into trouble.

"You were the first one to notice," Rumble commented, shrugging.

"Those petro-rabbits wouldn't know they'd been manipulated if Megatron told him himself!" Starscream howled, jabbing a fist in the air. "Rumble! Get my tools! I'll remove this cookie in an earth hour!"

Megatron was right; Starscream _was _great entertainment.

* * *

They crouched in a corner of the supply closet in section 6-B in the dark, waiting for anyone to be foolish enough to try to break through the locked door and get them. Grimlock's heavy tread, accompanied by the skidding of the chair glued to his behind, occasionally passed by to remind them that they couldn't lock themselves in there forever. Powerglide went to find someone with a key and a hearty dislike for Sunstreaker. Luckily, Prowl was busy. 

"You had nothing to do with this. So _why_ are you taking the credit?"

Tracks wasn't within reaching distance, to which Sunstreaker was sorry. Instead he snarled back a response that supported his brother's attempt to get to know Perceptor in a more comfortable environment than what a scary yellow mech and a pompous blue idiot could offer.

"What a relief! Here I assumed this was a ploy to get me into a closet and seduce me!"

Sunstreaker found an unseen object and hurled it towards the direction of the voice, where it knocked against something with a loud clunk. He was unsure if it hit the intended mech, but it shut him up nicely, until he cursed Sideswipe for doing this to them. Sunstreaker didn't miss that time; he tackled the source of the irritation himself.

CRASH!

Tracks fought back, but not before Sunny bent one of his wings into a nasty ninety-degree angle. They called a truce when Grimlock announced that Jazz would be there soon with a key. He was looking forward to cornering them like the prey they were.

"Don't," was Sunstreaker's only warning into the mech's audios before pointedly slamming Tracks' headhood onto the floor and returning to his original spot. He heard the Corvette re-arrange himself, growling in that Thurston Howell voice of his that this day couldn't get any worse.

"It could. You could be stuck in a closet with Tracks." The reason the blue mech had agreed to be Sunstreaker's date was still a mystery. "So why did you come over?"

He heard the low chuckle, one he gave when he thought he knew something better than his audience. "Sideswipe caught me in a rather embarrassing moment."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"We've got time. Talk."

"I would prefer not."

"I can hear it from him or from you. Which one do you think will make you look better?" Sideswipe was bored sitting here, and if he had to wait for Perceptor to save them he might as well get in a bit of entertainment before Grimlock burst through the closet door and made Tracks' day worse.

"It's nothing I'm particularly proud of." The voice was getting softer, more hesitant.

"Tracks. The left one's jealous." The Corvette's unmarred wing remained in jeopardy as long as he refused to elucidate. Sunstreaker heard a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Hypothetical situation...no, wait. Did you know I had brothers?"

"I've heard of Spokes." Most Autobots did not discuss their pasts, but Tracks' bondmates/fellow triplets had been legendary. Mags was not mentioned, until now. After a pointless story with no real end Sunstreaker reminded him of the particular in the monologue he really cared about. Tracks sighed again.

"I lost my brothers due to an unmitigated Decepticon attack."

"Okay..."

"After wandering the planet I came across a small faction that accepted me, gave me sustenance. There I...I met...someone."

"Okay..." Sunstreaker prayed this wasn't another meandering anecdote.

"I left him on uncertain terms. He was uncertain if he wanted me around, I was uncertain if he was alive. I came here angry with him, but guilty for being upset."

"And..." these dramatic pauses were interminable!

"Think for a moment. Who is your best friend?"

"Siders."

"Besides him. If Sideswipe died tomorrow-" Tracks dodged another projectile. "-something that _could_ happen, you know - and if he were gone, who would you turn to?"

This was not an enticing issue. It was bad enough that particular thought kept him awake at night in fear; he didn't need Tracks' functioning reminder.

"Nobody," he said sulkily. "Thanks for bringing that up."

"If you did, and they sent you away to a place where everyone hated you, where you were miserable, would you forgive him?"

"_I don't know!_ Get to the part where Sideswipe blackmailed you!"

"Think about this: You think you hate him until the moment you hear his voice. How would you react?"

"Can you tell a story at all? It was a one-sentence answer! Anything! You were stealing office supplies! You were killing puppies! Starscream was in your chambers! Primus!" Sunstreaker stood up and walked over to the closet door. "I'd rather deal with Grimlock than your stupid hypothetical situations. Forget it, I'll ask Siders."

Grimlock was easy to placate: all Sunstreaker had to do was give him a push and he rolled down the hall on the chair's wheels.

"Sideswipe! Are you done yet? There's a cube of high-grade with my name on it at home!"

* * *

The antidote was more difficult to concoct than originally surmised, thanks to the pleasant company distracting him. 

Sideswipe didn't do much except pull up a stool and watch, but somehow everything he said was as animated as the rest of him. Perceptor just wanted to gaze at _him_ instead.

"So what do you do after you put in the dissolvent?" he asked, as though this were more entertaining than the prank he'd engineered to create the problem.

"We test it on a part of the object with glue," Perceptor replied, transforming into microscope form. "Observe how the structure causes the compound to lose its bonds and become less adhesive."

He was looking through the lens intently, whistling in amazement. Perceptor felt something twinge. Sideswipe claimed he couldn't get a clear view of it and lightly placed his fingers on the knobs to fine-tune his view.

Fear, like the hand of Megatron, gripped Perceptor at this touch. His processor shrieked for Sideswipe to get away. Trying to remain calm, the scientist dismissed his impulses as puerile and transformed back to robot mode, smile hurting his face.

"We still have forty-five minutes," Sideswipe intoned. His body was still too close.

"Forty-seven," Perceptor habitually corrected, backing away. "Perhaps we might be able to grant Tracks and Sunstreaker amnesty-"

"Or perhaps not. Perhaps we should go somewhere else and perhaps you could tell me more about chemistry." Even with a mocking tone the offer sounded arousing.

'_This is what you wanted. Take it!'_ "Perhaps," he replied, showing he had some humor.

"What's over there?" he asked, heading towards an adjacent door where a recharge plate could be seen. Perceptor had forgotten to close it again.

"I...my...um..." he hurried after his date to block the way, protesting that the room was a mess.

"Looks pretty clean to me." His voice had gone down to that lower bassoon timbre, making the listener slightly shaky.

Perceptor lamely gestured to the door on the other side of the laboratory, the one that lead to the hallway where Sunstreaker and Tracks no doubt awaited them, hand quivering slightly as Sideswipe took it.

"We've got time. So what are you worried about?" he asked softly, putting Perceptor's fingertips to work tracing the Autobot symbol on the Lamborghini's chestplate as he pushed him further towards the open chamber doorway.

'_You! Me! Everthing!'_ "That Starscream is a better kisser."

That was the icebreaker Sideswipe had been waiting for. He threw his head back and cracked up, not relinquishing Perceptor's hand as he walked around the slightly taller mech, guiding him along. The joke eased the tension enough to make his leading the scientist into the back room more of a footnote than the whole dissertation. They were inside in no time. Sideswipe faced him as he closed the door to seal out the rest of the ark.

"Who told you that?" he impishly asked.

"Bluestreak."

"I see. What else have people been saying?"

"Well, those I asked-" Perceptor looked down, embarrassed to admit that he'd been "fact" collecting.

"It's okay. You're a scientist. I knew you'd do that."

"Really?"

Not really. Sideswipe was a good enough thinker on his feet to know what the mech wanted to hear. "Sure. It's part of your programming." He was rewarded with a grateful smile, a relaxed posture, and all of the information he needed to hear for a fine day of retaliation tomorrow as he maneuvered the mech over to his recharge plate.

"Mirage told me you like to be on top."

"Lies!" Mirage is going have a hard time staying visible once Sideswipe painted him pink. They had to stop walking; Perceptor's legs were at the edge of his recharge plate.

"Tracks says you worship your appearance more than he does."

"I really hope you didn't believe that." Sideswipe really hoped Tracks enjoyed hearing Prowl yell at him tomorrow for eavesdropping on a classified transmission with Cybertron the higher-ups had last night.

Perceptor stared at his hands, even as Sideswipe reached for the other one. "Skyfire...well, Skyfire, he, ah-"

"-told you that we hurt him."

The scientist nodded bashfully.

"And if Skyfire told you the alternate hypothesis had a higher correlation than the null hypothesis even when it was clear the dependant variable had a higher correlation coefficient, would you believe him?"

Perceptor's jaw dropped and he gracelessly dropped onto the recharge plate in shock. Sideswipe tried to hide his jubilation. He mentally thanked Wheeljack as he leaned over the seated scientist.

"I have a lot of hidden talents, Perceptor. All you have to do is sit back-" he gently pushed the other mech away to force him to lean against where two walls joined. Their optics met, causing the scientist to sit upright in anxiety. "-and let me help." Without warning, Sideswipe rotated so that his back touched the scientist's chest while he sat on the plate. "Here." He settled into the mech's arms and placed his hands on his, creating a melding of black and charcoal gray as fingers interlaced. Their feet rested on the floor. Sideswipe leaned his helmet against the blue and red chest. He could near the inner workings of Perceptor's system racing.

"Turn your optics off."

"Why?"

This was more work than it should be. He tried to keep his voice light and sweet to prevent any more panic. "Trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

After some deliberation he responded. "Indeed. They are off."

Thank Primus for small favors. "Tell me the coolest thing you've ever done."

Perceptor considered this. "I created a random chain of explosives proficient enough to allow Sky Lynx escape from Cybertron to bring us here."

"Really?" As the scientist told the tale of intellectual triumph Sideswipe proved that he was trustworthy. This had worked long ago for Sunstreaker with Bluestreak, it worked for Sideswipe today: put an uneasy individual into an intimate setting and give them power over the situation by being in their arms, put your hands where they can see 'em, and get them talking about themselves. Sideswipe felt Perceptor ease up enough to unfreeze and loosen his body to the point of leaning back against the wall. Sideswipe debated making any sudden moves when he felt a hand loosen from their entanglement and gradually drift down to rest on Sideswipe's thigh. It jerked back into its previous place. False alarm.

"Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker was in the main laboratory dodging a seated Grimlock trying to kick him.

Sideswipe sighed as he felt Perceptor hastily scramble out of their cuddling to free the Dinobot.

"Be right there, bro!"

* * *

It wasn't until they were sitting on the couch in their chambers drinking energon that Sunstreaker remembered to ask what Tracks had done to get himself in trouble with Sideswipe. His brother told him. 

"He was crying."

The yellow mech put his beverage down in shock. "You lie."

"I'm not. He was leaning against the wall, listening to Prime's conference with Ultra Magnus, bawling his optics out like a minibot."

Sunstreaker shook his head, still not believing. "Didn't Prime hear it?"

"Nah. The static was so bad you could only hear bits and pieces of it. Ultra Magnus was barely intelligible."

"Intelligible. I slaggin' knew it. You hang out with a geek for one night and you're already using big words."

"Goes with the territory."

"Like not getting to first base." Sunstreaker stood up to stagger over to his side of the room. They had another meeting tomorrow morning, this one earlier than the last one.

"Only a matter of time, bro," Sideswipe replied confidently, turning off the light.

* * *

Starscream couldn't sleep. All he could think of was how Megatron was monitoring his thoughts. He hadn't been able to find the blasted cookie. Rumble laughed at him the whole time. Disjointed, angry, barely lucid thoughts drifted in and out of his processor like slowed-down electrons, touching his conscious thoughts and rambling away again. 

He could feel Megatron hovering over him, a silver cloud with red optics warm and cold at the same time. His mouth was not visible but the condescending tone reverberated.

"You are _mine_."

"No!" Starscream groaned. "I will supercede you! I will be the new Decepticon leader!"

"Your meager resources could not lead antdroids to a picnic! You will go nowhere until you give yourself to me _completely_." A black hand reached over and gripped his throat. "Surrender!"

Starscream's hands pulled at Megatron's desperately. Surrender meant death. "_Never!_"

The hand slackened in disgust. "Without me, you are nothing. Until you realize that I will have to take you by other methods." The cloud smeared until it became the lights that turned on at 6 am, leaving a terrified Starscream online and afraid to leave his chambers.

Megatron smiled from his position watching Starscream slowly sneak into the hallway. He almost laughed at how high the Seeker jumped when his name was called.

"I have new assignment for you."

"Yes, mighty leader." Starscream appeared to be on another planet, rubbing his optics instead of following protocol and kneeling as was custom.

"Lead Dirge, Ramjet, and Thrust to the spacebridge for energon transportation and await my orders."

Starscream nodded, appearing to have heard none of it.

* * *

"Perceptor!" 

Sideswipe was addressing him in public. The studious mech smiled, wryly aware of the incredulous expressions from his fellow laboratory workers as an eager red warrior jumped into his line of vision to recount the latest rash of pranks going on in the ark.

"A bunch of guys woke up painted pink this morning."

"Amazing!" They continued their walk to a special meeting called for a select group of Autobots. "What warranted this malicious feat of hooliganism?"

"Wha?" Sideswipe asked, exposing his perspicacity, or lack thereof. His grin seemed to belie intelligence.

Skyfire, glowering over all of them, explained that Perceptor wanted to know what jerk painted Bluestreak, Mirage, Tracks, Jazz, and himself a festive shade of dusty rose last night. The red mech smiled innocently.

"I wonder who," he chirped. "I was with Sunny and Perceptor all last night."

"You were?" Skyfire asked after a VERY long pause.

"Of course," Perceptor interjected, trying to sound convincing as Sideswipe shook next to him. "We were removing the Superglue from Prowl's office and to expedite the operation I employed two assistants."

"What he said," Sideswipe often had to pretend his vocabulary was only limited by how many polysyllabic words he could listen to before getting bored. He liked listening to Perceptor talk. He had a velvety voice and a perfect word for everything, like he was painting a picture with every color in the Universe. He placed a hand on Perceptor's free shoulder and murmured something Skyfire couldn't pick up but had the microscope nervously nodding. This deepened the white jet's scowl.

If Sideswipe wanted to play that way, so be it. Skyfire would have the last laugh when Perceptor dumped him flat.

* * *

"We have a special concern," Optimus Prime intoned. "Megatron has a new personal weapon that must be countered with one even more powerful. More urgent an issue than this arms race is the lack of skilled Autobots trained to use it." 

"None of 'em can hit the broad sahde of a barn," Ironhide inserted enthusiastically. Prime stopped to give his Third-in-Command a measured look.

"Affirmative. Therefore, we've decided to put together a series of classes to better acquaint the Autobot forces with weapons other than those to which they are accustomed."

"And so they kin learn t' shoot." Ironhide got another stare for this intrusion.

Sunstreaker, the designated communicator, leaned forward, suspicious. "What do you need us for? The targets?"

"The teachers," Prime replied. He SOUNDED serious. Both twins shifted incredulously in their chairs, not bothering to stifle the laugh.

"We don't know how to teach!" Sunstreaker whooped, whapping Sideswipe on the shoulder as they enjoyed the joke.

Optimus Prime, with the comfort of a facemask, kept his tone patient. "We have seen you work with others and have decided differently. This is an opportunity to make the Autobot army stronger." As reality hit them both looked less amused and more disbelieving.

Ironhide reassured them that they would not be doing it alone; there was actually a faculty: for instance, Bluestreak focused on long-range skills, Skyfire, Swoop, and Powerglide would instruct the best defense for aerial assault, Brawn was doing hand-to-hand combat, the rest of the Dinobots made excellent tackling dummies-

"What would we do?"

Optimus Prime and Ironhide exchanged glances. "Close-range blaster techniques."

"_The broad side of a BARN,_" Jazz chimed in emphatically. This time Optimus did not glare.

Sideswipe hated the idea immediately. He didn't want to teach, he didn't want to mold any minds, and he ESPECIALLY didn't want to be held responsible when the trigger-happy minibots proved that they couldn't hit an injured Starscream in the face with a bazooka. Sunstreaker frowned deeply.

"What if we refuse?" he asked.

"You can do that," Prime craftily responded. "Your alternative is to enroll as students like everyone else."

Sideswipe protested for them. "We ACED the Cybertron Academy! Why should we have to go to a third-rate day camp?"

This earned chuckles from a few. Ironhide glared, offended that all of his hard work and coercion was going down the drain by a flippant remark. "Because if ya don't, then someone'll hafta tell Prahme about the Skyfar incident." When Ironhide got annoyed, his accent thickened.

"The what?" Optimus asked as both stood up and shouted "We'll do it!"

Ironhide did not hide his smugness. "We'll stahrt next week. Turn in yer curric'la and measur'ble objectives to Perceptor in fahve earth days."

* * *

Dirge dropped the last cube into Starscream's cargo hold just the right way, causing a chain reaction that nearly blew them both in two, until the Air Commander tipped over and spilled the rest of the cubes out before they almost destroyed him. 

"You. Idiot!" Thrust yelled, too halting in his delivery to convince anyone but a panicked Starscream. "You were supposed to-to do that from the air!"

"Do what?" the "Third"-in-Command shrieked, an echo of Rumble's warning thundering in his processor.

"Nothing," Ramjet babbled. "Nothing at all. We don't know what you're talking about. It's not like Megatron TOLD us to try to kill you." It was true. His exact words were 'see what transpires.'

"You're injured. Let me take a look," Dirge offered, being the best thespian of the three.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" the Seeker howled, the second part of a small tape's prophesy unfurling like a flag in the wind. If he allowed them to touch him, they would have him bleed energon to death and steal his processor for experimentation. With difficulty Starscream flew home to Megatron's wrath, not registering that perhaps the Coneheads were laughing at something different from what he thought they were.

* * *

Optimus Prime went over more details with his planning committee once the twins were dismissed. As soon as the room was almost empty he mentioned the threat. 

"I already know about 'The Skyfire Incident,' Ironhide."

"Yeah. But _they_ don't know ya know."

* * *

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe ran outside to get away from the urge to laugh themselves sick. 

"This is a joke!" Sunstreaker exclaimed, tripping over a cactus and barely regaining his balance. "Nobody will take us seriously! We're slagged!"

Sideswipe shoved his brother's head down to complete the fall, both transforming to gain speed. "We'll do it the same way we do everything: wing it."

"_I'll_ wing it. _You_ convince Perceptor we're doing a good job." Implied were many things, mostly snide commentary. The highway called invitingly.

"Easy. So am I the good cop or the bad cop?"

Sunstreaker waved it off as unimportant by tearing ahead. "Whatever."

* * *

"Stop!" 

Barely getting into what they were doing and Perceptor was already calling it off. Sideswipe had been nowhere near doing anything remotely invasive, merely touching the exostructure (not even close to circuitry). Still, to prove he was a nice guy, the Lamborghini halted his advances when his partner said so, no matter how tempted he was to ignore the command and continue.

Perceptor admitted his innocence to Sideswipe quickly, a move that would have cost him anywhere else but thanks to Autobot gossip granting foreknowledge Sideswipe handled it beautifully, confessing that Perceptor's history was not important to him as _being_ with him, as long as he was comfortable with Sideswipe, tying it up with a pretty ribbon by promising to be honorable and trustworthy at every turn.

As it had been every time they got together, he pulled away and they went back to talking. Slowly, _slowly_, Sideswipe had been making headway, the only reassurance he had being that sooner or later this mech would be his, an unspoiled energon reserve just begging to be consumed with a thirst only Sideswipe could provide. No matter how slow the process, the red warrior could wait for something that rare.

* * *

Rumble had bumped it, Megatron set it up, and Soundwave moved in for the spike by informing Starscream that the order for processor upgrades had to be completed before the end of the week. These upgrades were not vital, but useful as technology evolved. Each Decepticon had them rarely enough that the coincidence of Rumble's information made it suspect. Starscream ran out of the room, yelling that he was not that easily fooled. 

Soundwave would have grinned if he could.

* * *

Sunstreaker had four people over when Sideswipe returned home a few hours later, smiling stiffly. Sunny said nothing, leaning back on the couch as Hound and Jazz continued their argument over who was getting their aft beat on "Super Mario 3." Blaster greeted him with a hoot. 

"Date number five. Did you get past cuddling?"

Sunstreaker answered for him. "You know they didn't."

Sideswipe continued to walk to his side of the room, where he added to his collection of dents on the wall by pounding until the impression was an imperfect dimple, adding to the giant golf ball effect his partition had accumulated. He stormed out the room to readjust the other side (a storage closet), growl racing out of his vocalizer before he slammed the door.

"At least tomorrow we start shooting."

* * *

The sun was already blazing down onto the Autobots as the curious crowd mulled around. They had been put into a weekly rotation, each one of them taking different classes once day, thus leaving the twins six different opportunities that week to 'wing it.' Sometime while their first class sat on the ground socializing Perceptor approached Sideswipe to inform him he hadn't received their curricula and measurable objectives. 

"I guess you'll have to come over and hammer something out with me," Sideswipe replied, noticing his double entendre fell on uncomprehending audios and elicited a disgusted grimace from Sunny, who had not moved from his moping spot.

"Certainly." Perceptor, distracted, continued typing on a datapad.

"Uh, okay." The red mech decided to get the class started by calling everyone to come forward and get a blaster from the pile at his feet, but to make sure they got a kind they were not used to having. He handed Perceptor one that had been snatched out of the heap before the rush, informing him that the best way to gauge them was to participate. Uneasy, but warmed by the encouraging grin, the scientist smiled his thanks. Once the momentum began the miasma was difficult to calm down until Sunstreaker stomped out from his shady rock, heading towards the stuffed dummies Ironhide had ordered the minibots to set up earlier.

"Siders, get ready," he snarled in passing. Never something an Autobot wanted to hear. Sunstreaker looked over his congregation like a pastor about to elicit damnation and hellfire. A silence settled around as they gaped to see Sunstreaker, the homicidal maniac, fly about the dusty target zone in an unprovoked rage.

"You call yourselves AUTOBOTS! Who has to LEARN how to shoot after all these vorns? Did your creators forget to remove the plastic wrap from your processors before they installed them?"

"I should've been the bad cop," Sideswipe muttered, afraid.

"These targets are a joke!" Sunstreaker snarled, kicking the mannequins down as Bumblebee gasped. He stormed back to the awed crowd and grabbed his brother's gun as it dawned on his twin what exactly the yellow mech had in mind. "Do you think the Decepticons are going to stand still while you aim! Get real! Decepticons MOVE! Sideswipe! Are you ready for a demonstration?"

So he _had_ been thinking in that direction. Sideswipe looked at his brother, annoyed. "Are you serious?"

The mech cocked the weapon at him with a click. "Get moving."

Sideswipe crouched down and bolted for cover, contemplating what to do to avoid death as he wove around the cacti. "Notice how he's not running away as much as he's planning his next move."

"Keep tellin' yourself that," sneered Cliffjumper.

"Can we shoot at him, too?" Bumblebee asked hopefully.

"Shut up, I'm teaching." Sideswipe lunged behind a rock closer to his brother as Sunstreaker continued talking. "Decepticons are cowards when they're outnumbered, but if you're wounded and alone, here's a tip: they'll take a lot longer to get to you if you can shoot them _before_ they're close enough." To demonstrate Sunstreaker shot part of Sideswipe's cover into pebbles.

"Watch it! That thing's _loaded_!" Sideswipe protested indignantly, ducking another shot by hiding behind the clump of minibots. Sunstreaker smirked.

"Classic Starscream move right there. Living shields."

"Hey!" Sideswipe's head popped up only to go back down as minibots scattered. He took the hint and sprinted back to the ark before his brother called him back.

"Don't EVER shoot a Decepticon when they retreat. Prime'll give you some slag about it being dishonorable, but that's not it. They're at an advantage being in the air, and keeping up the battle will give them ideas they're too stupid to think of right now. As of last week, they still don't shoot as they leave. For the love of Primus, LET THEM GO."

"That," Sideswipe reminded from behind his brother as he yanked the blaster out of his hand. "And if you piss one off enough you'll be the first one he looks for next time." For added emphasis he flipped Sunstreaker onto the ground.

"Watch the paint!"

"Now, I know Brawn's telling you HOW and WHAT to hit." He looked at his class, who were enthralled with the pageantry around them. "We're here to show you WHY and WHERE."

"Line up and we'll see what you can do," Sunstreaker ordered from the ground.

* * *

"Sideswipe?" 

He didn't want to hear it. When Perceptor took that tone it meant only one thing.

"Yeah?"

"Cease your endeavors."

It took all of his inner strength to keep from throwing the fist his hand had curled into at the scientist. Good thing the lights were off.

"Sure." He rolled onto his side but didn't cease momentum until he was sitting upright and getting away from Perceptor as fast as he could before violence ensued. "It's getting late, anyway."

"You may leave the light off. Good-night."

"See you tomorrow."

This time he smashed his fist through his chamber wall, waking up Sunny and Hound to expose his humiliation.

"It's not worth it," Hound reminded him.

"It will be." The old Autobot tale of the first time being the best had yet to be contested, and Sideswipe was eager to test its veracity. He would, too.

He was almost there.

* * *

A large portion of being a megalomaniac was waiting for the right moment to attack. Megatron had tarried for the best minute to lead his troops against the inexperienced peacetime Autobot fighters to cause the faction to collapse under his might. He had bided his time to allow the depletion of resources to give the enemy a disconcerted sense of urgency regarding their energon supply, forcing half of their viable warriors to flee Cybertron and crash-land on earth. He would wait an eternity to kill Optimus Prime. Because he could not manipulate time and space Megatron began to fill the time watching earth television. 

When _Cops_ was boring, Megatron watched Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sluggishly push their troops towards surprisingly unfathomable success. A combination of erratic techniques and correct instruction, as well as the bizarre behavior of both Lamborghinis kept classroom attendance high six times a week. The best moment was Sunstreaker's speech to his class on day twelve.

"Some of you are pretending that this is a shooting gallery!" he yelled at the lineup of Autobots. Sideswipe grimly sulked on the north side as his co-teacher paced. "It ISN'T! You need to get it through your thick helmets that this is WAR! Lucky for you, I saw 'Full Metal Jacket' last night." He paused in front of Hound and snorted with a pleasant memory. "Well, most of it. Okay, I was busy. So sue me. But I saw the cool part while Grumpy over there was gettin' cockblocked again."

"Fuck you," Sideswipe snarled, pose unchanging.

Megatron never had any idea what they were talking about (neither did their pupils, judging by the stymied expressions), but he loved watching the Autobots march in the dust chanting "This is my blaster, this is my gun. This is for fighting, this is for fun!" past a quizzical Optimus Prime.

It was disturbing to note that the Autobot aim had improved for close-range combat; how this had occurred the Decepticon leader was unsure, since neither twin taught any significant target shooting. Perhaps the sniper Bluestreak had a talent for instruction that carried over to the other classes.

"You summoned me, mighty Megatron?" Starscream interrupted sluggishly. He looked terrible. Nights of not recharging were taking their toll on his daily routine, thanks to the paranoia Rumble helped instill into him. As he dragged himself through his duties, stress levels phenomenal, the depleted jet had decomposed into a more docile and accommodating being. This was only the beginning of Starscream's mental harassment. Megatron could never resist a chance to rile his "Third"-in-Command.

"Your appearance is deplorable, Starscream. Perhaps late nights with your _newest appliances_ are interfering with more _productive_ activities."

"As you wish, my leader," droned the mech, unaware of what was really being said to him but too proud to admit exhaustion as an impediment. He saw the ruby eyes glow and found no reserves in his processor to allow him to make a clever remark.

"I cannot have Decepticons overworking themselves." Megatron tried not to laugh at his next sentence. "You are to retire to your chambers until Soundwave declares you fit for battle."

Starscream stood up straight. So Rumble had been right when he said that Soundwave wanted to kill him, and Megatron was going to find any excuse to imprison him so that the other could do the deed!

"That is unnecessary! I am fit for battle and you know it! I could lead the Decepticons to victory at this very moment!" he shrieked, null rays pointing at the screen where Buzzsaw's transmission showed.

The television broadcast Sunstreaker having the Autobots practice summersaults with their blasters. Inferno's headgear refused to allow him mobility, keeping him bent in half. Tracks was whining, to which Sunstreaker sarcastically asked him what was he going to do about it, cry? "I do not doubt that," Megatron retorted wryly.

"Then let there be no more discussion regarding my functioning abilities! When are the Constructicons going to complete the device?"

"In time, Starscream. Return to your laboratory and order Rumble to come here. Soundwave requires him." Perhaps Starscream could get some sleep if everyone left him alone. Until then, it was almost time for _Unsolved Mysteries_.

* * *

Tonight, Sideswipe was deliberately two hours late. He wanted his quarry to know what it was like to be frustrated, since nothing was worse than having to wait for personal satisfaction. As he walked into the laboratory he realized, AGAIN, that he had no idea what he was doing. 

Skyfire was helping the red microscope perfect another experiment that needed fine-tuning, both scientists so immersed in their work that the Lamborghini's greeting was all but ignored. Perceptor acknowledged him after an impatient Sideswipe pilfered their slides, but told him that perhaps tonight wasn't a good night. He would talk to him tomorrow.

As the black and red mech tried to hide his aggravation behind a facade of casualness he heard Skyfire snort in delight. He would show him.

"I'm busy tomorrow. Prime's got me testing munitions with Hound for the rest of the week." If anything would make Perceptor jealous, it would be Sideswipe performing experiments without him. Experiments with explosives.

Perceptor sighed. A long, invidious sigh. "Will you transmit me the results?" he asked wistfully. He wanted to come along; even Skyfire saw that. Sideswipe hid the grin as he sauntered out.

"If I remember to, I don't know: I might be working too much. See ya next week."

He could hear the whispered conference as he waited. Four...Three...Two...

"Sideswipe?" Perceptor could hurry out to the hallway pretty fast from microscope mode. "I have to-wait a few hours for my results to finish procreating." His hopeful expression warmed a few things from where the warrior hadn't expected heat to emerge. "Would you like to tell me about tomorrow's assignment while I wait?" He held his hands out and Sideswipe eagerly took them, allowing himself to be pulled past a scowling Skyfire and into the back room.

Tonight the two took another step: gloriously vulnerable spots were pleasantly discovered; reveled. With all of the rapturous exertion a slight warm aura seeped out of Sideswipe, causing his recipient to pull away in fright. Although perturbed, the Lamborghini took it in stride, merely laying back and holding Perceptor while stroking the top of his helmet softly, telling him it was fine. Everything was fine. The scientist chuckled softly at some unknown joke as the lateness of the hour took its toll.

"I wish you could spend the whole night holding me," he drowsily whispered, barely knowing what he was saying.

Not yet. "I will. When we're ready."

One small step for a mech; one giant step for Sideswipe.

* * *

Gray skies occasionally came to the desert. Today the clouds surrounded the earth's source of light and gave everything an eerie, filtered feeling. Sunny sat in front of his favorite rock, high-grade energon in his hand, drunkenly brooding as Sideswipe approached, still sore from his latest brush-off from Perceptor in which he _almost_ kissed him twice. It was the second-to-last week of shooting class, revivied after a week off. 

"I don't want to be here," Sideswipe groused.

"Neer d'I." Sunstreaker swayed, optics blank. "Hound wen' backta Raji."

"Ouch." Sunstreaker did not show his more positive emotions but even Hound had to figure out that this mech liked him more than was good for him. Every time the Jeep and the race car broke up/fought/ignored the other, the yellow Lamborghini was there to keep Hound happy. Unable to entertain the idea that Sunny had purer motives, Hound assumed Sunstreaker considered it a union of convenience, making him guiltless when the Lamborghini's services were no longer needed. It made a very unsatisfied Sideswipe and an inebriated Sunstreaker wonder where the justice was.

"'Sokay." The muted light made his yellow a more depressed brass, darkening ever further under a thicker cloud as he tried to stand up. "Lemme teach."

"How about I try something and you watch out for Prowl and his spies?" Sideswipe suggested, easing the mech back down. Sunny slightly nodded, weakly leaning against the rock.

"Yeah."

Sideswipe groaned and turned to the congregation of Autobots who were too far away to hear their conversation but astute enough to see that Sunstreaker was not in the best of states. A minor whisper buzzed about while Sideswipe stepped forward and demanded to see how much they had retained since their last class.

"Line up and start shooting!"

His first victim was Bumblebee. "The whole time you've been here we've been telling you that you're aiming too low. I know you're short and all, but LOOK!" Sideswipe crouched down and grabbed the gun while the minibot let go. "Hold on to it. Since you _are_ shorter, you need to use some basic trigonometry to figure out the angle to shoot." After mathematical prodding and physical guidance Bumblebee's adjusted shot hit its target better. "Now pretend it's Rumble! Where do you shoot?"

"Is he moving?"

"His back is turned because he's making an earthquake. Get him! Much better. Keep at it," he called, moving on to Cliffjumper, who was shooting the crotch out of the Ironhide dummy Sunstreaker had deviously placed out in the middle of the Decepticon mannequins.

"Are you kidding me?" Sideswipe demanded. "What are you going to get doing THAT?"

"Personal satisfaction," Cliffjumper replied. "It's easy to hit."

"If you do that on the field you'll have a pissed-off Thundercracker! This isn't pro wrestling! Shoot him in the chest! Get his energon pump!" Scowling, Cliffjumper moved to the larger but harder target to shoot properly.

"Armor, armor, armor-aim for the weak spot-armor, armor-are you even listening to me?-armor-"

"I can't do it when you're over my shoulder yelling like that!" the red minibot hollered.

"You won't be able to do it when Ravage has you pinned down and Blitzwing's coming over to finish you off, then, either." Sideswipe lent his physical guidance to show Cliffjumper he had a nasty habit of aiming off to the left. Once realigned the smaller bot hit the vital chest area fifty percent improved.

"Better!" Sideswipe remarked, moving on to the next pupil.

Tracks hit the target every time. To test him, Sideswipe gave him different guns, which seemed to present little challenge. Next Tracks was told a certain spot to shoot, followed by the same exercise but different dummies, concluded with his shooting at Sideswipe himself with a stun gun. Sunny staggered over to watch that. The other Autobots applauded, to Tracks's fake modesty.

Sideswipe lined them all up again and told the Corvette to take a break while he finished his evaluation.

Perceptor. Sideswipe silently observed the scientist taking careful aim of his subject, shooting quickly, and waiting for the smoke to clear before pointing the blaster again, which took up too much time. He eagerly awaited his teacher's praise for hitting the target two out of three shots, smiling sweetly.

Again, the fantasy of shoving him against the wall in Prowl's office chair flitted into his mind, immobilizing him long enough for Perceptor to ask him if he were all right. Before he could answer Sunstreaker announced that class was over (it wasn't) and that he and Sideswipe had just been called to an emergency meeting. The yellow mech must be sobering up if he could enunciate again.

* * *

The doomsday device sparkled beautifully in the sun. Megatron surveyed the Constructicons' structure with an appraising scan. Every part was in place, every possible aesthetic detail perfected. Starscream, shaking next to him like a quasar, demanded to know how he was supposed to operate a device without decent controls. Where did they get this equipment, the U.S. Army? 

"Starscream, you have not been processing correctly since your first day of functioning. Hook has already briefed you. Hook!"

Tittering, the Constructicon revealed the rudimentary procedures that Starscream would have normally realized were a gimmick if it weren't for the total abandonment of his faculties to paranoid fatigue. He was so tired he could barely move as he pressed buttons to 'operate' the controls.

Megatron smiled to himself as he crept up behind his intended victim to squash him a little harder.

"Having pleasant moments offline?" Megatron hissed in the F-15's audios. For extra effect he traced his finger across a sensitive wingtip.

"Yes," Starscream lied in response, not making any sudden moves but quaking harder.

"That will change," replied his leader, smiling while he recalled the elaborate prank he'd played on Starscream last night involving a holographic machine and Megatron's greatest thespian performance since the Shawn Berger incident. The Seeker couldn't last much longer, and as soon as his mental barriers were down Megatron could enter his mind and take over, learning the secrets this irritation contained before Starscream's inevitable demise. How often this traitor had conceived ideas vastly superior to his leader's, as well as found the plot holes no other Decepticon could muster the courage to utter were far too innumerable for Megatron to count. He would posses the processor for his own use; capturing the genius inside of the insanity and disposing of the rest. As he slipped away out of the corner of his optic he saw his "Third"-in-Command waver, leaning on the doomsday device for a strength it would never provide. Soon.

* * *

Optimus Prime revealed that Sky Spy had seen a doomsday device being built by a nuclear reactor in Toledo, Ohio. It was necessary to plan a battle, and soon. Improvement in each class now had to be gauged so that Prowl could coordinate their strategy. That, and the students who had improved the most were promised first choice in new quarters, thanks to Hoist and Grapple's completion of an auxiliary wing of the ark. 

"Who has developed into the most proficient student in your classes?" Optimus Prime asked.

In unison, without conferring with any data sources or each other, the two replied, "Tracks."

Optimus Prime's optics dimmed. "Who else?"

"Maybe Inferno," Sideswipe offered while Sunstreaker countered "Gears. Why?"

"Tracks is ineligible," came the scornful reply.

Still not completely sober yet, Sunstreaker stood up aggressively. "What's so bad about Tracks? Sure, we all hate 'em, but he's gone from being afraid he'll get a scratch to handling that black beam gun pretty well. He's living with GEARS for Primus' sake! Give him a home less like an Iaconian airfield."

The Autobot leader loathed repeating himself, letting Ironhide inform them that Tracks was an inappropriate subject for consideration and to name someone else. Sunstreaker glared, refusing to speak. Sideswipe followed suit.

"We need a name or we'll ask Perceptor t'give us one based on his own infermation."

"He'll tell you the same thing we just said," Sideswipe informed him.

"Y'all know whay," countered Ironhide superciliously.

"That has nothing to do with it!" Sideswipe protested hotly, wanting nothing more than to punch that sneering old Autobot's face in.

"No," Optimus intervened. "Perceptor's data is not influenced by _outside sources_. We'll look at that. Even so, Tracks is ineligible."

Sunstreaker offered no other opinions or information for the rest of the meeting. Sideswipe did the same, telling them in response to every question to contact Perceptor. They resented their opinion being disregarded just because Prime held a grudge against one of their own, especially at the risk of the twins' own judging capabilities. Sunstreaker decided not to take this lightly. If they wanted to show him up like that, well, there were ways to get back at Prime, even if he had to collude with those he normally avoided to do it.

* * *

The chromatids were not going to opposite poles in his forced Mitosis. As Perceptor zoomed in to get a closer look as to why they did not respond to radiation someone twisted his course adjustment knob. 

"Sideswipe?" he guessed, transforming. "When did you get here?"

"You've said 'hi' to me twice already," the mech replied with a barely concealed irritation. "Are you done yet?"

"My apologies. I was observing the reaction of radiation during telephase-" He was silenced by the mech's scowl. "-but that is irrelevant." To his horror, he realized that his internal chronometer was NOT broken, it was 9:27pm and the movie had started at eight. Sideswipe had agreed to come over early so that they could get a decent parking spot. (That had been _his_ joke.) "I am sorry."

Sideswipe shrugged, using a tone that did not sound sincere. "We'll see it some other time." It made Perceptor feel worse. His mind raced with alternatives and the most obvious one, he was certain, would elicit a most enthusiastic response.

"I am admissible to suggestions regarding a more viable utilization of our leisure time." The red mech paused from playing with a Bunsen burner to look up with a smile.

"Such as?" he asked, almost hopping off of the stool he sat on. Perceptor held him back.

"Remain in your current position for a moment." Perceptor had experienced enough of Sideswipe to whet his curiosity. Now would be a good time to exhibit a few new tricks.

He held the Lamborghini's head in his hands, foreheads touching. Right hand straying from the chin, Perceptor's fingers lightly grazed down the mech's neck, down to his chestplate, and back up to his lips. Sideswipe playfully nipped at the tips, optics pleading underneath the sparkle.

No, he couldn't, he wasn't ready. It had to be perfect.

Instead of doing what he'd planned, Perceptor moved up to kiss Sideswipe on the forehead while he pinched the points of his helmet horns and shook them slightly. He heard the Autobot groan (in frustration or pleasure, he wasn't sure) and felt his hands encapsulating the barrel on his shoulder.

"I have no feeling in that section of my structure," he warned, trembling slightly from the excited noise he'd just heard.

"Happens," Sideswipe muttered, fingers reaching for the back of Perceptor's neck where there was the smallest spot of helmet that flared beautifully when pressed just right. A few tries later, Sideswipe had it.

"There," Perceptor said unemotionally. "That is correct."

Sideswipe laughed softly. So formal. So precise. So Perceptor. "Do you ever do anything illogical?"

"Once I attempted to gauge the outcome of running a humidifier and dehumidifier at the same time to test the air quality..." the scientist replied absent-mindedly. He was not prepared for Sideswipe to take advantage of the distraction by shoving himself off of the stool to crash his lips into Perceptor's.

"Mm!" It was the strangest sensation; as though someone had shocked the spot they were joined with a small electric current. Perceptor felt a wave of dizziness that, combined with the other's momentum from leaping off of his seat, knocked them to the ground with minimal resistance. His spark shot spires of electricity, numbing his arms enough to cause the scientist to worry. He tried to move them to test if they worked.

Sideswipe had to keep from shouting _'IT'S ABOUT SLAGGIN' TIME!'_ as the mech underneath him clung to his shoulders. After all of this waiting, the cool and collected Perceptor was melting at his embrace, frantically groping for something to make Sideswipe happy while riding the rolling tide of mutual gratification. He guided the Autobot's hands to the small of his back, where the black met the white.

"Right there, baby," the sports car gasped, moving up to kiss him again, deeper this time.

"Baby? Am I an infant?" Perceptor sounded a cross between hurt and confused.

It was too much to explain. "Human term of endearment." He pressed against him desperately, savoring the lightest taste of energon. _'Come on, Perceptor! Just let it go.'_ The scientist was warming up nicely. It was gradual, like the encroachment of the tide, but Sideswipe could feel it all the same. Expanding, flaring, it was similar to the surface of the sun, blue and hot and brushing the fringes of the Lamborghini's own field. Comparable to sharks and the smell of blood, Sideswipe went into a frenzy. It was better than he could ever imagine, spurring his desire further and flooding his processor with euphoria. '_Good PRIMUS it's warm and soft and even a little sweet oh it's incredible more more more-'_

Perceptor broke away, as though he had heard the inner monologue. "No! No more."

The smaller mech started shaking uncontrollably, startling the Autobot underneath him. He audibly gasped, a ragged choke that sounded like a death knell. After a moment of enraged silence, Sideswipe picked up his hand, opened it up, and slapped his palm against the floor to push his still-shaking chassis off of Perceptor.

"I am sorry, Sideswipe."

Another ragged gasp. "No, I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

Both felt terrible, for different reasons: Sideswipe physically hurt from having an aroused energy field stopped cold, while Perceptor wondered if he were pushing the mech too far and would lose him before being able to asses and catalog these unusual sensations. His curiosity outweighed his promise to his creator to WAIT until bonding. Above everything was fear.

"You did not. But soon..." he stroked the Autobot's cheek, taken aback at how warm he felt. He could not audibly finish the thought.

"Soon..?" Sideswipe prompted, wanting more than an empty allusion. He heard nothing. "Perceptor, I really like you. Really. It's just that...you can't keep me hanging like this."

"You _like_ me?" although it was obvious, the scientist had not heard his friend utter the words aloud. It made Perceptor drunk with power. "Are you _enamored_ with me?"

Sigh. "No."

The microscope nodded, leaning over to trace the warrior's lips with his fingertips. "That is comprehensible." At least he was telling the truth. "However, this unfounded apprehension is encompassing me to the point of an impasse, and I am afraid I have no reassuring words to alleviate the tension you must be experiencing-"

He reached up to stop the soft tickle. "You'll have to talk to Smokescreen then, or Wheeljack. Or Gears. I can't help you with that part." Slowly climbing to an upright position, Sideswipe refused proffered assistance. "Talk to you tomorrow."

Perceptor could only miserably nod from his reclining position on the floor. "Good night."

* * *

Officially, when a mech needed someone to confide in, the go-between was Smokescreen; however, the _unofficial_ Autobot psychologist was Wheeljack. Any problem, quandary, query, trifle, neurosis, psychosis, symptom, obsession, or crossword puzzle clue could be solved by a few words of his wisdom. Unlike his mechanical endeavors Wheeljack worked wonders on the Autobots' mental and physical well-being, partly because he was linked to the greatest mind of all, Ratchet. 

That left Gears. The first time Perceptor knocked on the door he was rebuffed with "If you don't leave me alone I'm calling Prime, Skyfire!" Knocking again, he was greeted with a scowling face that turned to one of shock.

"Perceptor! Don't tell me: you're ready to crack the restraining bolt."

The scientist blanched at the vulgarity. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"Why else would you be here, interrupting my only day off to bang down my door like that crazy fiend you work with? Do you have any idea what he does to my exostructure?"

Perceptor ducked into Gears' room before someone heard him. "I require your assistance on a delicate subject."

"Praise Primus! You ARE going to crack the bolt!" Luckily the door was closed, sealing sound in, or Perceptor would have fallen over in embarrassment. "Though I thought you were with Sideswipe. You know, Siders is a pretty good choice, 'though if I had my pick I'd have to go with Prime, he'd make any mech melt like a-"

For the first time in his life Perceptor interrupted somebody else's oration. "Shut up. Please." He didn't want to be here but talking to Wheeljack was out of the question. The risk of the antagonistic Ratchet overhearing his problem through his mind-link with the engineer and using it as something to taunt him with left the scientist no choice but to turn to Gears, who in spite of his grating personality could take a secret to the junkpile. "You are my only hope."

"Well, Gibi-wan Kenobi doesn't work for free," the red and blue mech replied, holding his hand out.

"What you are offering in exchange is not what I require." Perceptor sat on Gears' recharge plate and folded his hands neatly on his lap. "I am having difficulty relating to a certain Autobot on a non-platonic level." Gears looked at him quizzically. Perceptor stared at his hands harder, mentally cataloging the scrapes and dents that covered the appendages, all with stories of scientific exploration pertaining to their origin. Gears walked over and held his opened palm out again, clearing his vocalizer. In response the microscope pulled out from subspace a small but potent glowing purple rod of energy, the concentrated battery only a few Transformers had access to. They could be dangerous for the average user but the high they produced kept a mech awake and independent from recharging for at least a month. Perceptor had acquired this rod from Megatron when he'd saved him from Cosmic Rust, planning to save it for an emergency.

Gears' optics flashed purple to match the object. "Holy slag," he whispered reverently, stuffing it into his own subspace compartment for later. "Let's get busy. Which do you like, top or bottom? I like top since it's not as bad for my struts, but, hey, you're the mech." Perceptor pushed him onto the floor with the alacrity of one evading a Decepticon and the terrified expression to match. "AHA!"

"What is the matter with you?" the scientist asked, standing up and looking for a weapon of any kind to fend off this crazy Autobot.

"That's the problem right there: you're scared."

Perceptor sighed, sitting again. "I would have revealed that had you given me sufficient allotment for discourse."

"So what makes you so jumpy?" Gears pulled up a chair. When Perceptor didn't reply the minibot leaned back and smiled at him in an almost friendly way. "Do you _want_ to do it?" No answer. "Well, do you? It's not one of those multiple choice questions."

"I do not know."

"You know. You're hoping I'll tell you what you want to hear, or something that you haven't already thought of, which knowing you isn't possible. Do you like him?"

"Affirmative."

"Why?"

It was the way he asked it that made the scientist pause. Gears smiled wryly.

"Uh-huh. Let's try this: tell me what you have in common."

"We both are interested in science." He looked up at Gears' snort. "He likes hearing about my work-"

"When you first started going out or recently?"

Perceptor did not respond.

"Has he acknowledged you in public?"

"Yes, he constantly approaches me and we converse." It felt as though he were defending Sideswipe more than analyzing Gears's probing questions. "He invites me to his social gatherings as well. He is humorous and gentle and has never lost his temper even when I don't want to…to…" Gears, staring off into space, snapped his head to attention. "…do what he desires."

"You're not as enthusiastic, are you?"

"Negative." Perceptor stared harder at his hands. Was he abnormal?

"I'm gettin' a good idea of what's going on, but I want to make sure. Start from the beginning and we'll go from there."

Once the sordid tale and obscure vocabulary were comprehendible Gears, perplexed, scratched his head. "What's a mandible?" he asked. After the definition some pondering continued as Perceptor mentally berated himself for coming here instead of seeking the advice of the sagacious Wheeljack.

The minibot leaned forward, scowl emerging. "Three things come into my processor, Percy: the truth, good advice, and my own opinion. Being a smart mech (and one who should get his energon's worth) I think you need to hear all three. What do ya think?"

Perceptor nodded, melancholy setting in. He should have gone to Wheeljack. "Continue."

"Got it." Gears kept his aggressive posture and began waving his arms to demonstrate his point. "My advice is simple: do it and get it over with."

He should have known. "Why?"

"It's really nice of you to be saving yourself for someone you really love, but LOOK AROUND! We're in the middle of a _war_ stuck on an alien planet! Your creator made you take that vow _when_? The Golden Age is gone, buddy, it's not like there are Autobots banging down your door to make a commitment. There's twenty-six of us here until Primus-knows-when, and I'd rather deal with what you're going through than what Red Alert is. Slaggit, he can be a toaster. You _know_ that's why nobody likes him. If he'd just let me get my hands on him he'd be a whole lot more likeable...forget it, he doesn't care, and you don't either.

"Anyway, you have someone who revs your engine, somebody who _normally_ wouldn't even notice you unless you took a shot at him or his crazy brother, someone who's wanted pretty bad by more than one guy around here, so take it! When you meet the one you'll bond with you can give him your _spark, your soul, every chance to make him happy_, whatever! You don't have to give him your body. He already has one." The smaller mech's smug smile prompted Perceptor to postulate for the truth, hoping it was not as self-serving.

"The **ugly** truth: Siders only wants One Thing. I might be wrong, but I've been around these guys long enough to know love from sport. When he gets it, he might not stick around. If you don't want to compromise yourself, then don't. It's your life, and it's _you_ you're gonna have to live with. Be true to it. Let him go and any pain or bad feelings will fade sooner or later. Just tell him now."

Perceptor had been certain that was what had been holding him back. He didn't like that particular realization, instead deciding to dwell on Gear's schizophrenic pronouncements. "Two diametric recommendations do not auger your guidance, Gears. I had expected you would attune your perspective to something efficacious."

"Try using words with one syllable instead of four. Your mech'll like it better too."

"What is the third thing you wanted to tell me?" he sighed, defeated. No one in this ark knew how to build a vocabulary!

"Much better. My opinion is better than my advice, so here goes: you can't win the way you're playing the game now. You need a new strategy, or a new perspective." Gears stopped waving his hands to meet his audience's optics. "Percy, he's giving you things as he goes in hopes you're gonna do the same."

"Explain."

"I have to explain...oh for...my struts aren't what they used to be. I can't sit like that for long," he moaned, standing up and cracking his back. "Ah. Perceptor, think about it. You're letting _him_ into your chamber to play, but _you_ decide when it's over and _you_ get to tell him what to do and now that he's expecting a return on investment for all this power he's given you you're running to _me _- not Wheeljack, which says a lot - to tell you what to do. I'm tellin' ya, and you don't like it. So if you don't want to do what he wants to do, _talk to him_, not to me. You two are the ones having the problem. I'm the one who has a whole new stash of energon to enjoy."

Perceptor nodded and politely thanked him (for nothing) and hurried out before anyone caught him.

* * *

He was _almost_ seen: Gears had another visitor waiting around the corner to hear the departing slam of the door, the cue that his last interview was over. He ALWAYS left a sign out to show when it was appropriate to approach his chambers, asking for others to respect the privacy of anyone who visited him to wait for the signal. No wonder Tracks wandered the halls at night and recharged in the more contained public plates: his roommate was never alone. 

"Did I miss Skyfire?" Sideswipe teased as he barged in without knocking.

Gears hastily shoved something back into subspace and threw an empty polish can from under Tracks' plate at his guest. "What do YOU want?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, my good buddy. What do you have for the 'bot who needs a little creativity in his love life?"

"An empty treasury," Gears replied snottily, holding his hand out.

The red mech's left cheek curled up, richly enjoying the sardonic _joke_ of Gears expecting something from him other than a heavy beating.

"Knock off your sneering; it makes your pretty face look old." The minibot produced what looked like a television remote attached to wires. "I don't know why you're wasting your time with Percy when there are many more appreciative Autobots out there."

Sideswipe handed him some homemade high grade energon and snatched the toy. "You cost too much," he jovially declared as he bounded out of the room.

The small mech hurried out to get the last word. "I meant Skyfire!" he called.

* * *

Ratchet cornered Perceptor outside of med bay to ask him when he planned on coming back to duty rotation, seeing as how the counter-laser had been completed a long time ago. 

"I have been perfecting my fighting skills in our featured classes," the scientist genially responded, glad to show up the snarling CMO with a legitimate excuse.

"Good. Then I'll see you showing off in battle. OR I'll see you when I smash your lenses in for 'forgetting' to fight again." Ratchet leaned over and patted Perceptor on the arm fraternally. "'Til then."

* * *

Starscream couldn't take it any longer. Visions haunted him day and night. Every noise made him jump. Anyone who looked at him twice _must_ be planning his demise. He stormed into Megatron's throne room with his null rays ready. 

"I assume control TODAY, Megatron!"

"Starscream?" cried Blitzwing, shocked. "Since when do you do anything this stupid?"

"Since when doesn't he?" Astrotrain snorted as Megatron stood up to confront his enemy.

"I accept your challenge." Decepticons backed away quickly to get a better view of the entertainment as Megatron motioned for Starscream to attack.

It had been a long six weeks. No time offline, no greater amount of energon to compensate for the loss, Rumble's constant suggestions of subterfuge too obvious to ignore; combined with haunting nightmares, Starscream walked through a processing fog on a good day. On a bad day the thoughts were clear and the body refused to work.

Megatron dodged his first shot by squatting down, and, using the potential energy in his legs to leap forward, tackled the Seeker flat.

"That was quick," one of the triple-changers commented.

"Leave us," Megatron growled, grabbing Starscream by the shoulders and pounding his back against the floor. His head snapped back with each recoiling but his grim expression never wavered. His leader's legs moved again, this time surrounding either side of the Seeker's body to allow Megatron to stand up while holding fast to his prey. The room emptied quickly.

"Tonight you cease being my antithesis," the silver mech announced smugly, punching Starscream so hard he turned one hundred eighty degrees and fell against the wall, helpless to move. Megatron's right hand reached for his "Third"-in-Command's arm and pulled it behind his wings while the left pressed against his back. Metal snapped.

"Stop! I yield! Megatron, mercy!"

"Sniveling coward," he snarled in Starscream's audios, releasing Starscream and watching him slide down to the ground. Starscream on all fours. Megatron was sick of seeing it. He kicked him in the stomach area hard enough to roll him onto his back. "Stand up!"

All the Seeker wanted to do was lie on the floor and contemplate revenge fantasies while he self-repaired, but Megatron had to be obeyed. When the jet did not rise in an expedient manner he had rough assistance. Megatron threw him against the wall and thrust his mind into Starscream's like a rock into a puddle.

"AUGH!" The Seeker flailed his arms, as though that would help, but his leader's processor had a grip on him beyond any hand around his throat.

It was like the time they had gone to the jungle to recover the Heart of Cybertron. Starscream had been attacked by a constricting animal, one that hissed on top of his head and squeezed hard enough to trigger hopeless panic. 'Get this thing off of me!' he'd screamed, fingers scrabbling to free his vulnerable areas with no one assisting him as that _thing_ imprisoned him.

* * *

Prowl paused from inspecting Perceptor's notes to watch the class fire at Sideswipe, face impossible to read. It was Sunstreaker's turn to be the target, but he was still worse for wear from yet another binge. (Sideswipe didn't know who to be angrier with: the _cause_ of or the _reaction_ to Sunny's misery.) Their yellow instructor bellowed unintelligible commands that only his twin and Tracks seemed to understand, causing Cliffjumper to threaten to start shooting the stationary Lamborghini just be able to hear something elicited normally. Prowl took this as a cue to end the exercise and discuss something with the teachers again. 

Sunstreaker staggered over to the Second-in-Command, frown deeper as they were confronted regarding a horrible incident that occurred that morning: Gears had overdosed on some concentrated energon and fried entire circuit boards. While Ratchet and Wheeljack worked overtime repairing him, Autobot officials had a list of suspects and wanted to question the brothers about their supplies.

"Perceptor, we need you in med bay. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, follow me. The rest of you: class is dismissed."

* * *

Megatron had been in every single one of his Decepticon's minds with the exception of Starscream's, due to a lack of interest. When the silver mech had decided to rid himself of this pest, but still glean the important parts out of the conglomeration of knowledge the Seeker contained, invading him had become necessary. 

Every processor was different. Each of his minions had different thought patterns, from the chaos of Thundercracker's to the octopus-like network of Soundwave's to the convoluted shortcuts in Mixmaster's. Starscream's was fascinating. Colorful matrices flashed in front of Megatron like the solar light show he'd witnessed at the North Pole, each one with reactions and soundbites. He must be in the persona section; there were mostly memories of interactions with others.

'Die, PRIME!'

'I promised the earth creatures no harm would come to them. This is wrong.'

'One of these faces doesn't belong.'

'You try my patience, Starscream!' The intense fire of hatred for his leader blazed up at this recollection.

"Get...get out..." his captive moaned. Megatron ignored him, moving onto Starscream's planning functions.

It was a mess. If his emotional section was a beautiful tapestry of light, his logic section was a nasty brown lump with flashes of red that came together to form barely cohesive thoughts. Ray guns. Coups d'etate that did not work. In front of Megatron's figurative optics a flash of red light illuminated the figure of Rumble, whispering conspiratorially how Soundwave and Megatron were trying to kill him the moment his back was turned. Behind Rumble another object emerged, the image of Soundwave's possible attempts. Anything from battery acid in his chassis while offline to shooting him down by 'accident' in battle to Megatron holding Starscream down while Soundwave cut his wings off. Another flash of hatred for Megatron erupted, encapsulating the Decepticon leader's own processor. (_That_ _was_ _different_.) Usually this was a one-way link, a trick Megatron's own creator had taught him. He redoubled his efforts to keep this connection unrequited.

The sight of Starscream in an old-fashioned cape and crown recalling the days of ancient monarchy as he was crowned leader of Cybertron came next. The cheering crowd gasped as Megatron's head was elevated over the jeweled accessories. Suddenly, the dismembered object's optics glowed and the head enlarged to bite its prey. A surge of fear knocked both bodies to the floor and nearly broke Megatron's concentration. Actually, it did, for a moment; however, re-entry was not difficult. The rest of his mind was without purpose: space junk floating around with the occasional interesting trivia but absolutely nothing viable.

Starscream's cry was like that of the dying as Megatron, disappointed, retreated from the madhouse his underling called a processor.

"Your mind is as worthless as the rest of you," he snarled as Starscream completed his descent to the metal floor, optics downcast. "Get out of my throne room!"

He crawled out, whimpering. The other Decepticons were waiting to taunt him, but he didn't seem care. Through the link Megatron felt Starscream thinking that no matter what, he had to leave, had to recover, had to _get away_ from there, before the reality of what happened sunk in.

Megatron watched him go, feeling an unfamiliar trepidation rankle his processor as yet another unwilling Decepticon recovered from forging a one-way bond with his leader. This union had not been uncommon, but something disquieted the silver mech regarding Starscream's.

Something had gone wrong.

* * *

Sideswipe was held in Prime's office for well over half of the day. Perceptor asked Sunstreaker about it, only to get a brusque dismissal. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, being Ratchet's verbal punching bag. 

"He needs entire circuit boards replaced! Who fraggin' DID this?"

Perceptor had no idea how to tell him. Ratchet continued to yell and swear until Wheeljack booted him out of his space, telling him to recharge. Ratchet proceeded to kick things until the suspense killed him and he chased out Perceptor to give a report to Prime.

He was allowed inside to give the report, although Optimus knew the details already: a heavy dose of energon had fried almost a quarter of his systems, necessitating replacement. Ironhide played interrogator as Prime growled his grievances.

"Sideswipe's home-grown energon could not have done this," the Autobot leader stated ominously, staring at the shelving unit on the wall opposite of his desk. An old blaster held his attention better than Perceptor. "Ratchet found the vial, half-used. Where did Gears get such a large application of energon?"

Perceptor looked at Sideswipe, who slouched in his chair, scowling with stubborn indignity. Prime was scowling too, at the blaster on the shelf.

"Wher'd'y'git'it?" Ironhide demanded, drawl making him barely distinguishable.

"Get what?" the questioned replied.

"Tha hahgh-grayde _thayt_ pot'nt." Ironhide was in Sideswipe's obdurate face. "Tahk."

"Optimus Prime, if I may speak to you-"

"Later." The blue helmet didn't waver, staring at the gun more intently as his intermediary moved in to intimidate the alleged perpetrator. "Gears almost DIED, and yore playin' dumb wi' me. Ah'm sick o' this, Sideswipe. Sick o' you an' yer disregard fer e'eryone 'round ye. Sick o' yer problem-causin' that's wreckin' whate'er happiness this army c'n git-"

"Prime!" Perceptor interrupted, shocked. "A word, please!"

"LAYTER!" Ironhide snarled in his stead. Sideswipe didn't waver, although the full volume of the red mech's wrath was aimed at him.

"But it was MY fault!" the scientist cried.

"What?" all three replied. Sideswipe looked most shocked.

"Please, Optimus, may I speak to you alone?"

* * *

'There has been no cookie placed in your mind.' 

It popped inside of him, like a bolt of lightening; _his_ voice. Starscream should have known. No cookie. His informant had been lying, as usual. Starscream would have completely ignored Rumble if not for-

'Fool. I would have found a way into you.' Megatron's voice burned him like acid.

It didn't have to be like this. Well, yes it did. If the Decepticon leader had desired access to his processor, the only way he would get to it was to torture and assault his "Third"-in-Command.

Starscream felt lost, like the day he had to relinquish his search after Skyfire had disappeared. What could he do to free himself?

His processor churned as one of the muddy waters of one of those disgusting earth rivers, revealing no clues.

* * *

"I make the high-grade in my laboratory," Perceptor explained. "In exchange for his...company." 

Optimus Prime nodded, relieved that so many paradoxes in the Autobot gossip chain had been explained in a plausible manner. "I am sorry we accused your companion," he growled, still upset but easing into disappointment. He called for Ironhide to let Sideswipe go and for Perceptor to be detained in his chambers until Friday.

"One more thing: From now on you will keep a log of your scientific endeavors, which will be audited by either Prowl or Ratchet. Heavily audited."

As one red mech passed the other two, the scientist serenely smiled at his newly-freed associate. He could see disbelief, appreciation, and something else in the navy blue optics set in a sweet white face. It dissolved Gears' ugly truth, dismissing it as a jealous mech's invidious grumble.

"Come and visit me tonight," he whispered to the Lamborghini before departing.

* * *

That night he completed Starscream's humiliation by calling him into the throne room to hear the announcement that Skywarp had been promoted to Third-in-Command. 

Starscream crossed his arms defiantly, willing himself not to care. This whole currying for Megatron's favor was a farce, as far as he was concerned. Why did his leader spend so much time worrying over what Starscream did, instead of killing him outright? Had it ever occurred to him that an assassination would bring about more fear and respect from his troops than character dismemberment?

Apparently not. As was custom, each one stepped up and swore their allegiance to Megatron and his Commanding officers: Soundwave, Skywarp, and-to augment the degradation further-Scrapper. Starscream provided the appropriate lip service without flinching, although the smirk on Megatron's face clearly told him that the anguish had been felt through the link. Starscream had to find a way out of this, and fast.

* * *

They walked in to hear someone singing (HORRIBLY) "I Wanna Sex U Up." 

"**Let me take off all your clo-oh-oh-ah-ohs. Disconnect the phone so nobody kno-oh-oh-ohs! Let me light a candle so-oh we can make it bay-ter-er-"**

"FOR THE LOVE OF PRIMUS, STOP!" Jazz howled. Sunstreaker wanted to shoot his twin NOW, before anyone else heard him singing. Sideswipe paused from his concert to glance away from the mirror.

"Siders! Don't sing that slag if you don't want your tailpipe kicked!" the yellow Lamborghini protested, looking slightly embarrassed at the sight of his guest, usually impervious to social anomalies, putting his hands over his audios in shock. He got over it.

"Jazz's gonna teach us some new dance steps," Sunstreaker announced, as Sideswipe returned to preparing himself with some 'borrowed' polish for his big night with Perceptor.

"Good. Even PRIME can do that lame 'running man' dance you think is cool." The red mech grinned as his larceny _and_ repartee were rewarded with a smack across the back of his head and a glare.

"I'd like to see that!" Jazz exclaimed, setting up the boombox to play whatever was on the radio. He flipped the dials, settling on the local Top Forty station playing "Summertime." He snapped his fingers as the hook lead into Will Smith (not the Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff anymore), topping it all off with the dance in question.

"You and Megatron. Later." Sideswipe ignored their pleas to stay and learn the 'Roger Rabbit,' claiming he had a date. Sunstreaker scowled and turned back to Jazz, who was trying to do the 'Hammer' and failing.

"Are you _sure_ these are cool?" he asked, swearing he'd seen better steps on MTV.

"Are you questioning the Jazzmeister on what is fly?" demanded his teacher, collapsing on his back when his hands didn't catch him the right way.

"Forget about it. I need to talk to you about business." After recounting his humiliation with Prime's refusal to take their recommendation seriously, Jazz shook his head.

"It's not you, man. He hates Tracks."

"Why?"

"No idea," he replied unconvincingly, ducking down again to fail another attempt at 'The Hammer.' Vanilla Ice came on, causing Sunny to reach for the station switch. Geto boys claimed that **"**My Mind is Playing Tricks on Me."

"I think you do."

Jazz looked around, as though someone might be listening in on the conversation. "I don't know if it's true, but I have a source-" This would be Prowl. Prowl collected and Jazz dispersed, keeping the gossip wheel going. "-who told me that Tracks used to have a thing with Ultra Magnus."

Sunstreaker was not the most astute individual. None of Tracks' previous story brought retrieval cues. "So?"

"So? Who do you think Prime obsesses over? It ain't Grimlock."

"Tracks?" They HAD been acting funny that time Spike taught them how to play basketball. Touchy-feely. Standing too close to the other when they had to play point guard. Sunstreaker dodged the polish rag hurled at him.

"He hates Tracks because Tracks got what Prime didn't: Ultra Magnus. He even ordered Tracks down here so he could keep them apart."

Click. Sunstreaker suddenly recalled the details of their closet encounter and asked Jazz if he minded another dance aficionado joining them. Jazz said sure, the more the merrier, but he would GET this 'Hammer' dance down soon, so Sunny had better be ready for that and the 'Roger Rabbit.'

* * *

Buzzsaw had a busy week, what with all of the spying on eclectic Autobots while the rest of the Decepticons entertained themselves. He thought he'd get a break by Thursday but Megatron had other ideas. Buzzsaw was to watch Starscream, to follow him wherever he went, and make sure he was obvious, but not obviously obvious. Pretend he didn't want to get caught. 

The tape, not as highly favored as Laserbeak, scowled to himself while keeping a tight rein on his flying pattern behind Starscream. He deserved a vacation like everyone else, and wasn't getting one! All Starscream did was fly in aimless circles, as though he were wasting fuel so he could go offline without any trouble.

"Land with me, Buzzsaw," he called softly through their radios. Apparently he had not been as obviously obvious as ordered. Buzzsaw touched rock a safe distance from the Seeker and watched him stare off into space for twenty minutes before speaking.

"What did you bring me down here for?" the buzzard demanded through a series of screeches and caws.

Starscream held his arm out invitingly, a bit of energon between the fingers of the other appendage. Although the spy was not allowed to accept gratuities, his annoyance with Megatron allowed him to rationalize that this one time wouldn't hurt.

The energon was not as sweet as it could be; a slightly bitter taste suggested that this energon had been part of the Dinobot Island heist. Who cared? Buzzsaw gobbled it down and flapped his wings in appreciation. Starscream smiled back, carefully easing his free hand over to gently massage the top of the cassette's head. Buzzsaw's beak dropped appreciatively and his optics glowed.

"Poor Buzzsaw," Starscream sighed in a voice lacking his usual biting sarcasm. "Megatron truly under-esteems you."

His accompanist was inclined to agree. Another treat was offered, another gentle caress, this time in the space between his optics. Buzzsaw would have purred if he could. He asked Starscream what he wanted. The Seeker sighed.

"Nothing. Merely someone to talk to."

The jet received a snort of contempt. The day Starscream wanted something without a giant return on investment was the day Buzzsaw witnessed Autobot flight without the aid of Megatron's cannon. The buzzard informed him he belonged to Soundwave as a tool of espionage, not a counselor.

"I am well aware of that," Starscream hissed. "What I believe you are ignoring is that you may belong to Soundwave but you are _far_ from being as beloved as you could be."

Buzzsaw jumped off of the proffered arm, radioing Megatron to tell him that Starscream was trying to collaborate with him.

"You ungrateful pile of bolts!" snarled the jet, waving his arms in an attempt to catch the bird as he flew away. Starscream sunk back onto the rock, his processor swirling. That had not worked; now what?

* * *

Sideswipe had to go Gears' room to ask a question and was greeted by an armload of junk preceding Tracks. 

"Grab a box and get moving!" called Gears from inside. Although still bed-ridden, the minibot yammered instructions to Skyfire and Bumblebee while gesturing for the Lamborghini to enter. "Tracks got awarded a new room for getting the best marks in all of his classes. Go figure."

Skyfire was above petty Autobot gossip, but Bumblebee was not. "That's not true. Prime still told him 'no' when Gears started nagging him about having his own room." He cast an admirable glance at the scowling Autobot. "That was pretty nice of you to let _Tracks_ have the room, since Prime was gonna give it to _you_."

"Prime needs to recall that I _can't_ move, I'm repairing. Sideswipe! Pour me another, would you?" He held his glass out for more high grade.

"I was coming in to borrow some more batteries and check up on you, but you seem okay," Sideswipe commented as three of the five mechs trooped out with Tracks' possessions.

Gears tossed the extra Energizer DD batteries into Sideswipe's waiting hand. "My plate's lonely without your fine tailpipe in it, but other than that, things are copacetic here. Have you tried the device yet?"

Sideswipe's frown over the first sentence dissipated to a grin at the second. "I'm on my way over now."

Gears nodded, guzzling his high-grade as though he hadn't just fried half of his motherboard. "One thing, Siders. Come over when it's done and tell me what it was like." Gears had cracked more than one restraining bolt in his career and thought it nice to discuss the experience with someone else. Besides, there was a 95 change the microscope would back out of it, and however Sideswipe convinced Perceptor to give it up would be a technique Gears wanted to know about.

"How about I call you in the middle of it so you can tell him what he's doing wrong?" Sideswipe retorted.

"Go to the pit! But first, I need a refill."

Gears would have to wait for Bumblebee to return; Sideswipe had business to take care of. He left, lousy singing voice calling "**don't be shy, girl come to meeeee. Open up your heart and I'll set you free" **to drown out Gears laughter.

* * *

Optimus Prime hadn't realized he'd been staring until he heard Sideswipe greet him from the other end of the hallway. Perceptor looked up at that moment and greeted him too, asking what he could help him with. 

"I came to hear your report on the status of the new blaster," Optimus explained quickly, walking in from his position at the doorway. How it had turned into twenty minutes of watching the red scientist working quietly was beyond him.

Perceptor held up the second version they decided to create in case the first did not work, explaining that it was still experimental, but the major glitches had been fixed and more testing would be needed first. He spoke in a calm, cool manner, his face serious and professional, but at the sight of Sideswipe peering behind Optimus the microscope allowed a private smile. One not given often.

The Autobot leader shrugged it off. It didn't bother him. At least, it shouldn't. Frankly, he was a little disappointed in Perceptor's idea of a decent companion. Sideswipe enjoyed the hunt, not the time it took to get to know the Autobot he was squiring. Did the warrior know anything about Perceptor, like his favorite part of earth (the beach: there were always new things to explore) or how the scientist recited the periodic table of elements when he was nervous, or how when he accomplished something impossible he would get so excited he forgot his calm demeanor and physically LEAPT for joy? Probably not. He had more than likely encountered Perceptor's addiction to work, which was as strong as Prime's, and probably didn't respect it at all. Seeing the two stand next to each other as Optimus inspected the gun gave him an inexplicable feeling of irritation. He was sure the energon that nearly killed Gears was Sideswipe's doing. Now he was corrupting Perceptor. What next?

Prime didn't like the way his train of thought was going. He put the blaster down, told Perceptor he was doing a good job, and bid them both good night. On his way out he encountered Tracks moving into Gears' new room. Tracks stammered out an explanation of his roommate's generosity that did not make Optimus very happy. Upon confrontation Prime was further agitated by Gears being over-energized. ("You almost DIED!" "I'm sorry, Prime." "Not as sorry as you'll be when I tell Ratchet!") His day was going from bad to worse as he stomped into the main control room and sat at the chair, sighing loudly. The room was so _quiet_. Everyone had somewhere to go and somebody to be with, except for Optimus Prime. Well, that was the fate of the Matrix-bearer. He turned back to Teletraan-1's scan for Decepticon activity and tried to get the image of Perceptor's smile for Sideswipe out of his database.

* * *

Sideswipe looked fantastic. His body gleamed like a jeweler's amalgam of onyx, ruby, and white gold. Perceptor could smell the sweet tang of fresh polish/oil when the mech sidled up to him, watching Prime leave with a malevolent glance in his sapphire optics. 

"What did _he_ want?" he demanded, placing a fragrant arm around the scientist's waist possessively.

Perceptor didn't care. He had been thinking about Sideswipe's reaction to being saved, juxtaposing it to Gears' speculations for a long time, realizing that the _real_ fear he had was losing control over his emotions. Sideswipe had admitted he didn't love Perceptor. He was very nice to him, though. The scientist had no inclination to lose his current moderately disinterested position, something that was getting more and more difficult to prevent as Sideswipe smiled at him in that sweet way and leaned in to kiss him. He _had_ to like him, Perceptor was sure of it.

"You taste like heaven," the Lamborghini sighed, a statement that hadn't made sense the first time he'd employed it, but after its explanation made it seem like an exotic inside joke, like knowing a foreign language. (Carly had whispered "Je t'aime," to Spike once, to his confusion, until Perceptor had translated it for him.)

Skyfire, eliciting a long-suffering sigh, reminded Perceptor that he had a room. Sideswipe didn't miss a beat. Not even acknowledging the large mech he grabbed the microscope's arms and walked backwards, lip-work never ceasing.

The door slammed behind them and he pushed Perceptor against it, breaking the embrace so that he could lean his head on the free shoulder and murmur into someone's audios in a low voice. "I got you something."

Such a low, intoxicating voice...it made the mech shiver. It was like the warm wind caressing Perceptor's face when the sun was setting at night outside of the ark in the summer. It was impossible not to adore him. He had for almost a month, if he really wanted to admit it, the next step being into an unknown chasm. All he had to do was jump off the cliff and see what happened. Perceptor tightened his grip on the Lamborghini's back, to keep his balance. The jolt that shot up both his arms caused him to gasp in surprise.

Sideswipe's optics lit up to _finally_ hear his prey make some kind of impassioned reaction that didn't sound rehearsed. All it took was the right toy. Gears had been inspired by an episode of _Cops_ he'd seen on television involving the use of a tazer gun and electrodes. He'd rigged up something for Autobot consumption, one that brought a smile to the user.

"What was _that_?" Perceptor demanded, waving his arms in shock.

"What did it feel like?" Sideswipe eagerly whispered, sliding a free hand up the scientist's back with the confidence of one who knew his partner couldn't resist detailing anything new.

Perceptor would have blinked if he could. "It was as though my arms were radiating...joy...up into my chest cavity...and...oh my." The bolts of ecstasy rippled up into his body again, with enough intensity (and a low enough electric charge to delight a mech his size) to cause him to tighten his grip on Sideswipe from "balance provider" to "foundation" status.

He was smirking, Perceptor was sure of it, but coherent thought was slipping fast as another of the applicators fumbled in hands searching for the perfect spot on the back of the scientist's neck. If he found it, the microscope realized, alarmed, there would be no turning back. Perceptor found the electrode fastened to his left wrist and clipped it to the small of the warrior's back, somewhat amused that the minor action went unnoticed in the preoccupation to find the right spot, one Perceptor had purposely lied concerning the whereabouts every time.

Sideswipe was sure he'd found it. Perceptor had squirmed slightly at a certain area. This was it. He cranked the intensity to "9" and pressed the button, anticipating fruition. Finally.

"AUGH!"

A thousand bolts blasted through the most receptive place in the cracks of his armor, making his processor swim and every circuit to flare at once, causing the mech's energy field to explode with a vicious pleasure that knocked him _and_ Perceptor to the floor.

"Oh sweet Primus," he gasped, hands twitching so hard he dropped the remote that would have cut off this rapture. "Oh no, there it goes _again_! Augh!" He burst into hysterical laughter as Perceptor was awash with someone else's joy.

In a tangible form of warm, sweet, blue light, emotion splashed around him, giving the scientist a stronger sensation of power than any of his other games with the mech. Sideswipe was helpless, calling-for what was unclear, but the noise was making something mean twist inside of the scientist, glad to hear his cries-and it made his entire core flare. The two lights touched for the barest of moments, causing Sideswipe and Perceptor to both bolt upright; Perceptor in horror, the Lamborghini with delight.

'But did it count?' Sideswipe wondered as the scientist ended the sweet agony by turning off the device and flipping the light on. A harsh illumination put things into better perspective. 'No. Not technically.'

"Are you all right? Do you need repair?" the red, teal, and black mech asked, worried. His partner tried not to laugh at the automatic quote from another robot popping into his processor. 'If any of my parts or circuits will help, I'll gladly donate them!'

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." The son-of-a-toaster actually pulled a fast one on him! The red and black mech laughed at his own expense, the scientist regarding him suspiciously. Perceptor wasn't a bad guy. He might actually get used to having him around. Slag, he was two steps away from...from...

The thought had him recoiling in shock, standing up quickly. He pulled the electrode out of his back, breaking it by accident.

"Is there something wrong?" Perceptor asked, alarmed. He had finally upset Sideswipe enough to merit abandonment. Did that mean that whatever fragile understanding he thought they had was false?

"I have to get out of here," he stated, reaching for the door handle.

"Leaving is unnecessary. I apologize for the legerdemain-"

Perceptor's date didn't stop ask what that meant. He rushed into the hallway, fear overtaking him before the scientist did.

* * *

Buzzsaw returned to Soundwave to report that the Autobots had detected their doomsday device and were planning a strike at dawn. 

"What took them so long?" demanded the new Third-in-Command, getting far too casual with his address now that Starscream had been reduced to being merely a foot soldier and no longer demanded Thundercracker beat protocol into their databases.

"They were assessing our weaknesses, moron!" Scrapper snapped, already sick of his promotion. He liked it better when he commanded his team of contractors-for-hire, not following the Boss around like a medieval courtier. "So now we bring the bait in, right?"

Megatron shook his head to himself. He would never admit it, but he had grown accustomed to the status quo as much as those under him had. Starscream's absence was noticed. Although the Decepticons welcomed change that gave them more power the issue of losing Starscream unsettled his troops enough to initiate chaos in the ranks. He wasn't too thrilled with it, either; but Megatron pretended he was not one for illogical sentimentality. Starscream had to go. As the silver mech reaffirmed his decision, he skimmed the minds of his one-way linked minions to see if a moment of compassion would boost morale and make them feel any different about the former Air Commander's departure. Apparently not. They had all assumed he and Starscream were a couple long ago (Megatron grimaced), therefore a figurative pat on the back to his best but most disloyal soldier would not cause any notice. It must be a holdover from his Gladiatorial days if he wanted to let Starscream have one last honored moment before the slaughter. Besides it would drive the Seeker even crazier.

"Affirmative. Soundwave! Summon the other Decepticons."

"As you command, Megatron. Laserbeak, eject. Operation: congregation." The condor swooped out and flew out to find the numbers of Decepticons who conveniently ignored their radios when they felt like it. Megatron grinned. Soon, all of this would come to its apex, ridding him of the Autobots once and for all.

* * *

"DON'T TURN ON THE LIGHT!" shrieked three voices in the dark of their room. Sideswipe prayed it wasn't what he thought it was. "Primus, tell me you're developing pictures." 

"Desert landscapes, and if you slagged this one up with the hallway light I'll bust your tailpipe," replied Sunstreaker, hanging the picture on the clothesline with the others as Mirage and Hound swirled the remaining proofs in the liquid of Sunny's impromptu darkroom.

It happened once in a solar eclipse: Sunstreaker had a need to take out some of the rolls of film he'd used when he went through his 'photography' phase and develop them, to see what he'd done. Mirage and Hound would help him out.

"Back already, huh?" asked Hound, sounding vaguely sympathetic. Jazz and Blaster had left-_together_-about five minutes ago.

"Yeah," the newest arrival replied tiredly, flopping onto his recharge plate. "I don't want to talk about it."

In the safety of the blackness Mirage gave a dignified snort. "Manipulating a defenseless Autobot tires you out, I suppose."

Sunstreaker showed an amazing amount of restraint (most likely in deference to Hound) by simply stating "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

"I can hate the player if I want," came the response. "He's the one perpetrating the stupid game."

Sideswipe had no idea why Sunstreaker put up with either of them. Mirage was a toaster and Hound the rollbar refused to see it. If the red Lamborghini had his way, he'd prefer hanging out with Bluestreak, Jazz, and Trailbreaker, instead of he and Sunny constantly being insulted by Mirage and his sense of superiority.

"Okay, time to go," Hound commanded from across the room, glad he hadn't seen Sideswipe's supposed nasty hand gesture. The Jeep dragged his compatriot away, trying his best to keep the light out.

In the dark Sideswipe felt pressure on his left side and a small glowing flask of potent energon being slipped into his hand. "What happened?"

"I couldn't do it." It was all he had to say.

Sunny let out a frustrated groan/sigh. "Seekerslag," he replied.

"What do you mean?" Sideswipe wondered if his brother was still drunk. 'This may be the end of the energon', he rationalized, imbibing it quickly.

"You did not put this much work in to give up at the finish line, and since I _know_ Gears' toys work every time, and that now he's probably lying on his bunk trying to figure out what went wrong, I think it's SEEKERSLAG that you're even talking to me about how you 'couldn't'." He pulled his brother up. "Get going. I'm throwing you out. You need a place to go offline tonight." Blue optics gleamed in the dark. "But you won't."

"I'll be asleep before you," Siders replied dully, heading out the door.

"That's the spirit!" Sunny called after him.

* * *

Blaster had better things to do with his time than petty revenge schemes for Sunstreaker. The Decepticons were swarming like angry hornets in Ohio, to Prime's disquiet. Prowl, who had _nothing_ better to do at night, was sitting at Teletraan-1 and calculating every possible movement Megatron might make before their morning onslaught. Far more interesting was the way Jazz had kissed him goodnight. 

"We need to roll out before sunrise," Prowl finally announced from his chair.

Optimus nodded. "Assemble the army in an hour," he growled, hurrying out the door for a last-minute conference with med bay.

* * *

Starscream looked at the controls and saw his way out of this mess. When the time was right, he'd aim the gun at Megatron and blow him sky-high. NO! No, that wouldn't work, either. What he wouldn't give for a decent recharge period to allow him to process better. All of his ideas were lower than third-rate (one-hundredth rate, no doubt). Time was running out. 

The Doomsday device sparked nastily, inspiring Bonecrusher to pound on it with his fist. Just as suddenly as a leaf picked up by a tornado Starscream realized that his time _had_ run out. Megatron DID want him to die, thus the mind invasion. This doomsday device was it. He had to fly out of here, leave.

But where would he go?

Megatron looked up at him at that moment and beckoned him over. Putting a heavy hand on the former Air Commander's shoulder, the silver mech's optics flared under the strong lamp the Constructicons provided. With the harsh florescent light shining on both of them, there were no shadows, no places for the dark to hide, and Megatron's face elicited what appeared to be regret, but was more than likely sardonic amusement.

"You have not had a complete recharge as of late. Rest for awhile," his leader said. "I will watch over you."

When they had all been underground fighters the Seekers had cuddled with each other for mutual energy restoration (not to mention protection). Megatron had rested with them, an equal in their nest, until the time came for him to fulfill his delusions of power. So there WERE strains of contrition in his patronizing.

"What happens after that?" Starscream responded without emotion. He was going to die, and Megatron's expected gloating was nonexistent.

His leader didn't hear him; or he ignored him. He pointed to a cord to plug into and settled next to the Seeker, putting an arm around his "foot soldier's" waist and watching the Constructicons continue their work. Starscream laid his head on Megatron's shoulder and fell offline remembering the recharge periods of a more united/less hierarchal Decepticon army, when potential for conquest was at its highest. Sleeping in his leader's safe, firm grip before his execution wasn't too bad of a way to spend his last moments.

A pity he would never allow Megatron to take him out that easily.

* * *

The only way for a calm, rational thinker to ease the turbulence of the most recent activity around him was to go back to work. The blaster was shaking in his hands, forcing Perceptor to steady himself by reading the boring work logs he had to fill out that accounted for every fifteen minutes of his day. Bureaucracy at its best, thanks to his fabrication to Prime. For the affection of a mech who ran out of the room for unaccountable reasons. What was he processing? He should have known that the Lamborghini would be upset that things weren't going his way. Did this mean Perceptor _wanted_ his advances? Then why was he still so frightened? He berated himself for being defensive until weary of internal dissent he turned everything off and turned back to his recharge plate in time to hear a sharp rap on the doorframe of the laboratory. 

Sheepishly, the red mech in front of the scientist smiled that same warm, unassuming expression he gave when he wanted the Autobot in front of him at ease. "Sunstreaker kicked me out." He stepped into the lab with an unassuming gait, hand at his neck in a sweet embarrassed gesture. "Do you have a spare plate I can recharge on?"

Temptation to lead him to Skyfire's was superceded by a mere pivot, walking into his own room and gesturing to the plate with accommodations for a mech and a half. The fear made Perceptor shake slightly.

"Thanks." Sideswipe crept onto the plate and scrunched himself against the wall to allow the microscope enough room for his usual offline position. Perceptor insisted Sideswipe make himself comfortable, he had more work to do.

Odd, considering Perceptor had been shutting everything DOWN when Sideswipe had arrived. Oh well. He turned his optics off and relaxed, stubbornly adherent to what he'd told his brother.

After pacing the laboratory for about ten minutes (HOW could he have missed this obvious seduction tactic?), Perceptor decided the best thing to do was to face the fear and be prepared to fling the mech off of him if need be. This was ridiculous, fluctuating from desire to paralysis over someone who had been respectful and nice to him throughout their time together. He should just do it and get it over with. Perhaps he would not be so petrified of affection. All Perceptor had to do was lay there and take it, and it would be over before he could panic and all that had to be done was to open the door and lay down.

Sideswipe lay sprawled over the entire plate, optics dim and machinery humming as the electric surge recharged him. He was offline. Perceptor was worse than Red Alert. All doubt in Sideswipe's true intentions disappeared. Relieved, the scientist calculated a good way to lay down without disturbing the mech and tried to settle, but it felt strange having someone else with him. Sideswipe had such an angelic smile while he slept, one that made his face radiate warmth even when his navy blue optics were unlit. Perceptor moved to lay on top of him, lost in the scrutiny. His fingers slowly traced the face around the helmet as the scientist got his first decent look at the one under him.

There was a great sense of control in being able to inspect the mech under him without feeling uncomfortable. Perceptor was able to inspect the face intently, seeing the beauty of the more realistic twin at his own pace. What would it be like to kiss him while he was inert?

The warrior's lips were soft and cool as Perceptor pressed his face against his, but not to kiss. This ability to analyze him had made the anxiety disappear. At long last, the scientist molded his own lips to fit into Sideswipe's as he eased his body completely onto the other mech's.

With a flash of blue optic, the warrior was awake; he did not stir. He lay perfectly still while the Autobot above him continued his inspection.

Perceptor paused to see if his friend would begin his usual amorous attack. When Sideswipe remained motionless Perceptor leaned in and traced the chestplate with his fingertips, continuing his wait. The Lamborghini did nothing.

Then, the slightest noise scratched up to Perceptor's hearing range. The red mech's hands were balled into fists as he tried to control the urge to take the scientist by force. Something flashed inside of Perceptor, a rush of power and desire that twinged his core so hard a flare of blue light flashed outside of him. Sideswipe smiled as Perceptor stared, startled.

"Don't fight it, just let it go where it wants."

"I do not think a mere light eruption is worthy of internal contention," he retorted, annoyed with the Lamborghini for breaking the spell.

Sideswipe's optics became less luminous at that pronouncement.

"Then what," he hissed jovially, smile looking fake, "is the fraggin' holdup?"

Perceptor wanted to immerse Sideswipe into his newfound belief that it was fear of a loss of control, or not being appreciated when it was over, but it all seemed...pointless. Sideswipe would do and think whatever he wanted. His perfect navy optics barely illuminated his adorable face as it looked at him, frustrated, confused, and harried by the maze of contradictions. Words were only a meaningless form of sound for him, not a means of communication. Actions spoke in the Lamborghini world.

He threw it all away: the protest forming on his lips, the offensive concept of bowing to someone else's whims, _everything_, rationalizing to himself that the faster he got it over with, the sooner life would return to normal.

Sideswipe had lost his patience. If Perceptor was going to awaken him from the fatalistic sleep the red mech had plunged into there'd better be a good reason. He did not expect to be slowly played with. Now...now, finally. Finally. _Finally._ Perceptor's energy field was growing, lapping at Sideswipe with the constancy of ripples in a pond. Should Perceptor change his mind again, the warrior decided he would have to kill him. Enough was enough.

If it was real, if it was another test, neither of them knew. They proceeded with the aplomb of sightless, deaf mechs into the abyss of amorous endeavors. Sideswipe heard Perceptor gasp slightly and felt a flare tickle him the right way. It wouldn't be long now. Finally.

* * *

It was a dreamless sleep, disappointingly short. 

"Awaken," Megatron commanded, shaking the jet online as the bustle of the Decepticons accelerated. They were coming forward for the final rundown of what was expected. As with the dawn of every anticipated battle, Megatron performed a pep talk.

"We have among us the greatest Decepticon warriors in the galaxy!"

"Yeah!" the others responded. These were the times that they became enthusiastic about their affiliation. If Megatron weren't such a gifted orator, perhaps morale would not be as high as it were for a faction often losing the battles they wanted to win; fortunately, their leader had a tongue as silver as the rest of him.

"We are brave, skilled, ruthless warriors who will crush any puny weakling who stands in our way!"

"Yeah!"

"Get the ground-pounders!" yelled Skywarp.

"YEAH!"

Megatron raised his arms for the congregation to settle down. "Our superiority is what will lead us to victory. Therefore..." he turned to his 'foot soldier.' "...we are prepared to embrace our destiny when _you_ are ready, Starscream."

With a flash of inspiration, the Seeker knew what he could do to destroy Megatron and become leader.

"I am ready!" he cried, arm up for the Decepticon salute. "Hail, Megatron!"

"Hail Megatron!" cried the others. The Seeker allowed a small smirk in relish in that he, too, could lead a crowd into energetic enthusiasm.

The hour of reconciliation was at hand.

* * *

No rapture, no pleasure, no ecstatic cry could adequately equate the tactile sensations the microscope experienced. Every touch had reverberated into the most amazing feeling, culminating even as Sideswipe practically begged for him to _do it_ already. Withholding was more fun. Even so, the buildup ached slightly, causing the scientist to allow the beginnings of a release. Carefully, slowly, the energy flaring eased out of his body, meeting the mech's under him like the ocean meeting the beach. Sideswipe shook, fingers digging into Perceptor's back as he moaned. The fear soared to near panic-attack levels, distracting the scientist and forcing him to berate himself to concentrate. He had to do this. 

Alas, it was not meant to be.

The alarm screamed so loud that both jumped. "The Decepticons are attacking," he sighed, disappointed as his energy died and he begun momentum to climb off of the Lamborghini. Should he be relieved or disappointed? He had no idea.

Sideswipe grabbed the microscope, grip like a vice, and for the first time in their limited relationship whined like a wounded animal. "No! Stay here. IGNORE IT." He was peppered with kisses as enticement.

"We cannot. Ratchet has threatened to break my lens if I do not accompany him into battle-"

He threw him off of the recharge plate and held him down. Snap. "_If I have to solder you to the ground I will._"

"Sideswipe!" he had heard of psychological 'snapping' but didn't think a _physical_ noise accompanied it. "Unhand me! I'm already on probation, it is un-" Lips met his desperately, hands refusing to relinquish their hold. The microscope pushed as hard as he could against him, to no avail. Panicking, Perceptor was able to escape the kiss and call for help. Skyfire banged on the door and told him he would get the master code and come in. This threat gave Perceptor leeway enough to pry himself free from Sideswipe's denting embrace.

Skyfire opened the door at the same time, allowing the scientist escape. Sideswipe stood up with difficulty, his optics blazing so bright they illuminated the dark chamber. Skyfire allowed the smallest smirk, asking him if he enjoyed the turnabout, before slipping out into the hallway to join the army.

Sideswipe had trouble walking at first, but the wrath that had exploded inside of him built a momentum of destruction he'd not encountered in awhile. "_Do you have any idea how many others I could have had in all the time you led me on, you slagging geek?_" he whispered furiously at the silent room. No reply given, the warrior raced out of the laboratory determined to make this battle _short_.

* * *

Prime called for them to roll out as Perceptor, lagging behind after having trouble finding his blaster, ran to catch up. 

"There you are!" called Wheeljack. "Jump in!" The microscope gratefully transformed into the Lancia and nervously tried to get comfortable for the first battle he had joined in a long time.

"What am I to expect?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as uneasy as he felt.

"The usual. The Lambos go flyin' in, Cliffjumper and the rest of us sweep up behind, Skyfire bails us out if Megatron isn't keepin' Prime busy, Prowl radios us to tell us where to move, Mirage sneaks over to turn off the machine, Trailbreaker puts up a force field, and Hound throws them off with his holograms. We got lucky Omega Supreme came in last week with Smokescreen; that's changed it up a little."

He was so flippant about it. Perceptor was not comforted by this attitude, especially when Cliffjumper breezed past them calling for anyone to 'let me at 'em!' Kup and Hot Rod had this attitude back on Cybertron, and it seemed to the scientist that the cockier they got the harder the losses were.

"Sideswipe, this is Prowl! Fall back into formation!" Their radios all linked up to the same frequency, thus whatever anybody said was fair game. "Sideswipe! Come in!"

"He's just ready t' kick some Decepticon tailpipe, Prowl," chuckled Ironhide. "Ah feel the same way!"

"So where are we going?" Spike, the human ambassador to the Transformers, had caught up to them on his way back from writing a long term paper. He sat inside Bumblebee and eagerly bounced up and down in anticipation.

"Ohio," Jazz announced, plugging in an earth song that proclaimed **"Cleveland Rocks!"**

"_Will you turn that off_? It's rattling every bolt in my chassis!"

"Aww, c'mon Gears! It's just a little fun!" Jazz protested, laughing.

"Prime!" called Gears in his whiniest voice.

"He is correct Jazz. We can not make a surprise entrance if they can here us coming."

"Laserbeak will tell them if we're coming," the Porsche replied, almost sounding put-out. He slowed down to complain to Wheeljack about it. The Lancia made sympathetic noises but for the most part did not contribute. Perceptor supposed Jazz resented Gears' blatant biased treatment from Prime almost as much as Gears disliked Jazz's total disregard for the preferences of those around him. For one thing, the microscope would have rather had this time to mentally prepare for their battle, as well as unwind from the unsettling scene with Sideswipe; instead he had to listen to Jazz pitch a fit over 'the squeaky wheel' who 'needs to be replaced.' Eventually Jazz felt better, thanked Wheeljack for lending an audio, and left.

"Was that necessary?" the scientist inquired.

"He does it before every fight, so I guess so," Wheeljack replied. "I think it's easier for him to forget where he's goin' if he can whine about Gears. You know…change the dirty so that the machine can run cleaner? It's his version of a processor oil-change."

"I suppose." He was glad he was not a psychologist. They rode in silence until Prime's voice came through on the radio a few hours later.

"Autobots, be ready for an attack in about thirty astro-seconds. We'll be at our target by then."

"All rahght! Let's git 'em!" Ironhide called exuberantly, racing ahead of everyone but the missing Sideswipe. Where was he?

"Probably waiting for the rest of us so that the party can start!" called Cliffjumper in response to Sunstreaker asking the same thing. The yellow Lamborghini was not happy to hear this, being used to having his partner in crime alongside to back him up.

"We're here!" called Ironhide, practically jumping up and down in excitement as he transformed. "Let's kick some Decepticon tailpahpe!"

Perceptor leapt out of Wheeljack and looked around. He had expected it to be raining, explosions everywhere, Decepticons jumping in front of him wherever he walked…not a semi-abandoned parking lot on a slightly windy day with Autobots stretching while griping about the length of the trip. It was so informal, as though he had expected the wedding and saw only the rehearsal dinner. Prime and Prowl murmured to each other while various cliques of Autobot clumped together and talked. Blaster was quickly summoned to Prime's tete-a-tete with Prowl. After a few moments of frantic radio calling, he faced Optimus with a shrug. Sunstreaker hovered over Hound, glancing around in agitation, until Mirage appeared with a worried frown and bad news for everyone.

"I found Sideswipe," he intoned flatly.

"Where?" several demanded, heads swiveling in the direction Mirage's finger pointed. As if he had heard, Ramjet soared overhead with Sideswipe riding on his back in a style Ironhide would have envied.

"TAKE THAT, YOU OVERSIZED HANG GLIDER!" he could be heard over the engine noise – barely. Optimus Prime had no time to duck from Megatron's shot, crumpling to the ground, barking out orders.

"TAKE COVER! WE CAN'T AFFORD TO HIT ANY PART OF THE POWER PLANT!" He managed to dodge Megatron's next shot as it took out Windcharger instead. "Roll out!"

"SHOW NO MERCY!" Megatron ordered, another shot from his arm crippling Brawn. Ratchet and Wheeljack tried to drag Optimus out of the way but could not when Megatron and Soundwave were blocking their route. Ratchet looked around and noticed a shell-shocked red mech standing amidst the carnage, relatively ignored.

"PERCEPTOR! GET YOUR LAZY SKIDPLATE OVER HERE AND HELP ME!" Ratchet bellowed.

"Of course; my apologies." His reply went unheard over the scream of firepower and the screeching of Decepticon jets. He raced over, aiming his blaster for Soundwave and completely missing, accidentally blowing up the human car behind the tape player. Wheeljack was already taken out and Ratchet tried to block both assailants to protect Prime as Perceptor threw caution to the wind and tackled Soundwave. His tapes jumped on him, piledrivers causing the inexperienced scientist to flinch at the pain. He was thrown off of the large blue Decepticon with ease, but the exercise was not completely futile: the injured Brawn had managed to drag Prime to safety as the medic distracted Megatron. Perceptor tried to fire again, blasting the patch of asphalt behind Ratchet's heels to pebbles.

"STOP THAT!" Ratchet hollered as Megatron took a step back, hand over one optic.

"Get the microscope!" he ordered. Ratchet attacked from Megatron's blind side and shoved him to the ground next to Soundwave, who had lost an argument with Prime's gun.

Prowl was there after Skywarp appeared in front of Perceptor, to fend off Decepticons while radioing a specific request: go find out what kind of doomsday device they were dealing with. Prowl would cover him, as long as the scientist didn't try to shoot anything himself.

Perceptor took off, trying to dodge whatever came after him. His shoulder circuits blazed in agony at a shot that found its target. He couldn't focus on anything but getting to that giant gun Starscream was aiming in his direction.

* * *

With an inevitable demise looming over him like the sword of Damocles Starscream was feeling rash. He would finish them all off at once: Autobots, Decepticons, EVERYBODY, in one fell swoop. Whoever survived would follow him no doubt. He'd start with the large red mech running towards him.

* * *

"He's activated the gun!" Perceptor told the strategist as he stumbled on the leg that got shot. He had to get over there and stop Starscream, no matter how many of Soundwave's tapes got in his way. Dirge came down from the sky to further impede him, until Perceptor fired his gun and _hit_ him, bringing the wrath of the other two Coneheads upon him. 

"Autobots!" called Prowl through their internal radio. "Starscream has activated the device! Move in!" Decepticons surrounded the gun to protect it, but there were more Autobots than they could fight, thanks to the arrival of the Dinobots. Starscream kicked Bumblebee as hard as he could away from the controls, demanding Megatron use his new arm gun or this project would be an exercise in futility.

No response. Megatron was curled up in a ball, being dented by Sideswipe and Sunstreaker until Slag showed up to hinder the mech's attack by proclaiming Megatron was his. The yellow mech stepped aside, but Sideswipe focused his attention on the Dinobot who dared get in his way. Slag and Megatron took off to fight in the sky at a velocity that left a boiling Autobot on the ground, firing up his jet pack to go after both of them.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Sunstreaker demanded, running after his brother, exasperated. Even for his usual foolhardiness in battle Sideswipe was being recklessly self-destructive.

"_I WASN'T SLEEPING!_" the red mech screamed at his brother.

Sunstreaker stared for a moment, stifling a smirk. "Oh."

From behind the red mech a low growl emerged as the land shook. Rumble's chasm swallowed them whole as he called something about watching their backs, but the two barely heard it. Sideswipe grabbed his brother and turned on his warmed-up jet pack.

"Head over to Starscream!" Sunstreaker called, letting go to fall onto Soundwave as they soared in the sky. "Slag has Megatron!"

Sideswipe may be a rampaging fool, but when his brother told him to do something in a battle he obeyed. He focused on the jet busy picking up minibots and tossing them at Optimus Prime to keep him at bay as the machine behind him started glowing a bright red.

"STARSCREAM! YOU'RE GOING DOWN!" The Decepticon scientist looked up to grapple with a red blur of wrath descending upon him. Black fists flew, piledriving into the jet as he jumped back to avoid a more serious beating.

His opponent's optics flashed angrily, his motions flared, his voice was desperate, his head jerking around as though searching for another vent. This was beyond the anger of the average Autobot fighting spirit. It was not the uncontrolled fury of one who had just lost those closest to him. It was...ah, yes. A well-acquainted attitude, one Starscream was far-too-familiar with, thanks to Skyfire.

Bumblebee was back, tapping superfluously at the controls and yelling that nothing was happening. Skyfire ran over to echo the smaller mech's announcement. Now what?

The black fists were stopped, gripped in a primitive pushing match. Sideswipe was still fueled on frustration and won easily, pushing the Seeker against the doomsday device easily. Starscream laughed; a low, silky, inclusive laugh. "Your energy field is radiating fifty percent higher than normal." His fingers curled around Sideswipe's, sliding in a circular pattern affectionately. "Did our attack interrupt a special moment?"

No reply. Not that Starscream would have heard; Sideswipe shoved him against the device hard enough to scramble his circuits and knock him out cold. It didn't stop Sideswipe from pounding against the Seeker, not even when there was nothing left to flatten. His fist slipped on the mechfluid and jarred the panel next to him loose to reveal the mechanisms inside. Perceptor had come up behind him to try and calm him down, terrified at the beast unleashed. Sideswipe didn't always act like this in battle, did he? Perceptor mentally kicked himself for not going to other fights for a control to this variable. The unease changed to panic as he recognized the pieces showing.

"Sideswipe! This is a bomb!"

The Lamborghini grabbed the scientist and took off, radioing the bomb code 1041 over the airwaves. Autobots scattered like leaves in the wind to get away from it, except for Perceptor, who pushed himself away from Sideswipe (shunning intimacy even when his LIFE was at stake! This mech would send him to the recycling bin!) and landed on the ground, running back.

"Where are you going?" yelled Sideswipe.

"To stop the bomb!" he called over his shoulder.

"You geeky nut!" Sideswipe shouted, turning back to help.

* * *

Pain ran deep inside of Starscream, radiating like the sun. He couldn't move, he couldn't process, all he could do was feel the agony. Would it ever stop? Panic pervaded him, making it difficult to do anything but hang on to only one thought, the impulse of a desperately frightened Decepticon. 

'_Megatron...help me.'_

_

* * *

_

Megatron stopped pushing against the Dinobot's tricorn to sharply glance towards the east. He frowned for a moment, indecision evaporating as time progressed. "Rumble! Rescue Starscream before we retreat!"

The last thing any of them wanted to do was go back to a giant bomb and retrieve the most annoying member of the team, but arguing with Megatron was the worse of two avoidance issues. Rumble landed by the rattling edifice and shook Starscream's shoulder, what was left of it. "Get up! We gotta get outta here!" The mech didn't respond, optics dark and mouth slightly open.

"Starscream, wake up!" He looked up to see two Autobots running toward him. "Oh no ya don't!" There was no way he could make an earthquake, forcing him to pull a firearm from subspace. His blaster shot down the red and black one, but his own gun was knocked out of his hand by the other red mech's blaster. He tried again to revive the jet beside him. "C'mon, Starscream!"

Perceptor raced up and inspected the control panels, for all the good it did. The screen remained blank. He moved over to the panel where the two Decepticons waited, fiddling with the circuitry until he realized he was lost. This was not a system he had ever seen before. How did they know what he could and could not do? He transformed to get a better look.

Sideswipe was up and moving again before he knew it. Rumble couldn't leave without Starscream, no matter how much he wanted to. The bomb rattled again as the periwinkle mech grew hysterical. "Don't just stand there! HELP ME!"

Sideswipe looked at Perceptor, who was more intent on a solution to the problem than escape. Heaving a sigh, the Lamborghini grabbed the microscope and hauled him away in one hand and the jet over his shoulders. Rumble flew next to him, supporting the Seeker who was groaning as they flew. Disgusted, the smaller mech wrenched him free as Sideswipe landed. The jet lifted his head in a feverish delirium, barely functioning. Perceptor stared at the bomb in agitation.

"I have to formulate a solution!" he cried. "Or the nuclear meltdown will be disastrous!"

"Why don't you channel Trailbreaker's force field to contain it?" demanded a delirious Starscream, finally being lifted by two Coneheads and taken away. Perceptor, gazing at the plant as his processor worked in overdrive, snapped his fingers for inspiration.

"Why don't I channel Trailbreaker's force field to contain it?" he exclaimed. "Using the new blaster!"

"I thought that thing was highly experimental!" This was insane!

"There are no other options. Trailbreaker! You are needed in coordinates N 42-19.952', W 83-4.114'! Expedience is of the utmost importance!"

The doomsday device roared, shaking the ground so hard it knocked a hurrying Trailbreaker to the ground. Sideswipe helped him up and dove for cover, hoping Perceptor remembered everything he'd learned in shooting class.

* * *

Megatron flew his troops out while cradling Starscream in his arms like a young child in his father's grasp. There was nothing paternal in this mech's spark, though: Starscream had tried to kill them. Worse, he had done something unprecedented, something that had to be analyzed. Once Megatron figured out how Starscream had managed to contact him first, as well as disconnect the mind link, Megatron could fine-tune his attacks. Then he could kill Starscream.

* * *

There was no time to debate. Trailbreaker glanced at Perceptor as he connected his forcefield mechanisms to the blaster and wished that they weren't going to die…because he'd offered to shoot the field himself and Perceptor had turned him down. 

"This device will magnify your field capacities exponentially," the scientist explained as he cocked the gun at the nuclear power plant. He aimed carefully as Prime ran towards them, ordering Perceptor to wait, let Bluestreak-

**KA-BLAM!**

The seismic waves tossed the Autobots about like paper cups in a tidal wave…but Trailbreaker's forcefield kept the nuclear reaction contained. Cosmos put his own forcefield around the whole mess and chugged it out into space, leaving a huge crater…but NO RADIATION.

"HE DID IT!" screamed Ratchet, leaping in the air in a series of sporadically located jumps, fist pumping in the air with the joy reserved for basketball championships.

"He did it!" cried Trailbreaker incredulously, too drained to be as exuberant but just as thrilled. Ratchet helped him up, finally calming down.

Sideswipe cautiously rose from his hiding place, searching for Perceptor and not seeing him. Sunstreaker leapt into his face.

"You fraggin' idiot! You gave away our position!" Sideswipe ducked a yellow fist coming after him. "I missed half the fun 'cause I was pinned back with Hound!"

"Yeah, I bet you hated every minute of it!" Sideswipe returned the volley, tackling his brother in relief as they tumbled around the ground, trying to kill each other. Sunny had a weird way of telling him he was glad his brother was safe.

Optimus Prime carefully propped a battle-weary Perceptor up into sitting upright, gently shaking him online. The mech's optics lit up after a moment. He rubbed his injured shoulder uncomfortably.

"Did it-"

"Affirmative. You saved us." Prime supposed he could yell at Perceptor for jumping the gun and disobeying orders some other time. Right now all he wanted to do was hug the scientist-but he couldn't. Perceptor was with somebody else. They were in public. It wasn't right for a Prime to favor certain mechs. He had to content himself with one arm around the scientist while he regained his faculties.

Perceptor looked into the grayish blue optics and leaned back on the strong red arm in relief. So they were going to be all right. The earth was safe. He felt blue hands timidly pat the healthy shoulder and a disquieting thought struck Perceptor as odd. He wasn't scared. Being this close to Prime felt safe. Secure. There was no pressure to do the unknown, there was no worry of rejection or fear of being hurt, only the joy of being with someone whom he respected.

That was how it _should_ be with Sideswipe…but it wasn't; it was more like a fight for supremacy instead of a mutual attraction. This was how it should feel and it wasn't. The thought was interrupted by Autobots calling for Optimus's help. As he pulled away Perceptor accidentally made a noise of disappointment. Prime paused before asking if the mech would be all right.

"I will be…fine." He smiled at the masked leader. He _would_ be fine, as soon as he reassessed a few perspectives.

* * *

In the Decepticon med bay there was no medic. Most repaired themselves or begrudgingly allowed Starscream to fix them. Hook worked on Megatron alone, leaving the rest of them quick to master their own systems. Fortunately there were fragile alliances and clones and gestaltmates to aid with the more threatening repairs. 

Starscream had no one willing to bring him back, except for a reluctant Constructicon who preferred his leader to be somewhere else while he operated, instead of observing the process over his shoulder.

Only Rumble was brave enough to ask. "What did you ask me to save him for?"

Megatron lied about many things, the most recent regarding how well he could read his Decepticons' thoughts. The mental connection was not the best, being that he killed his teacher before perfecting the technique. It was more of a scare tactic than a real asset to mental manipulation, which is why he was surprised with Starscream's communication.

Rumble's indignant demand needed to be answered. As Megatron watched Hook piece his enemy together he thought quickly. He didn't have to, knowing he could claim some ulterior motive not yet to be revealed, but the Decepticon leader told the truth often enough to keep his forces trusting him when a lie needed to be believed. Right now, a partial-truth was in order.

"I need him for a higher purpose," he explained carefully. Rumble asked what it was, and Megatron replied he would elaborate when Starscream was conscious.

He didn't offer any other details. Rumble let it go. Most of the Decepticons groaned in disappointment at Hook's proclamation that their Air Commander would live and abandoned the premises. Only Megatron remained, waiting.

"None can talk to me where you did, Starscream," he hissed into useless audios. "You were not strong enough to counter a mind link in your condition when I invaded you. You were too injured to contain the ability to disconnect our link, yet somehow you did. Explain yourself!" No reply. He had heard Starscream beg for help as though he were alongside Megatron fighting the Dinobot. It disturbed Megatron's assumptions, ruined his paradigms and plans, and forced him to completely reconsider the way he controlled his army.

The Decepticon leader waited for communication and received none. Annoyed, Megatron left to plan his next move.

* * *

Soft loving darkness flowed where pain ebbed, releasing the crushing panic that held him captive and made everything less heavy. He must have been repaired. For a jet, this feeling of weightlessness was a release all its own. Starscream sighed in his offline state and could now relax enough to dream. 

It was simple enough: Cybertron, in all the glory of its Golden Age crumbling as Decepticon power overtook Autobot inaction. Megatron lead his forces to yet another victory. As they cheered their leader, he held his arms up for an announcement: he had chosen a successor.

"Starscream."

More cheers. Smiling to himself, the Seeker turned on his leader and shot him dead to the thrill of the mob below him. The planet was his!

Too simple. Megatron was a force to fear, a force to mistrust. Starscream could not do anything but anticipate his chance, since this maddening Decepticon awaited his perfidy at every turn. Megatron owned him, controlled him, watched over him with a proprietary attitude that seemed almost paternal but was more like possession. Someday Starscream would break free of this hold. First he had to come online.

When he awoke he was surprised to find himself alone. Surely Megatron would have waited for him, at least kept some kind of vigil for the Decepticon who had prayed to him like the god he was. Like human deities, Megatron appeared when it was within his whims, not when necessary. Relieved, Starscream was glad he hadn't shown that particular vulnerability.

It gave him time to plan his next move.

* * *

Repairs took forever. Ratchet thoroughly chewed him out for the entire duration of his work, adding to Sideswipe's already overflowing irritation. He told the CMO more than once to hurry up. 

"Hot date?" he asked flippantly as he tapped the mech on the shoulder to demonstrate the end of the job.

"Yeah." Now to find the hiding Perceptor, who had been MIA in med bay, except for repairing Prime.

He was walking away from the closet in section 6-B with an indistinguishable part in his hands. Sideswipe reached for him and dodged the microscope barrel as he swung the purpose of his search to face him.

"Now where were we?" he asked mischievously, pushing the microscope against the wall. Finally.

Perceptor put a hand up to block the white and black face. "I require a different type of interaction, first." His voice and face were both grim, making him a mood-killer.

Sideswipe pulled back, smile fading quickly as he struggled to keep it on. "Shoot."

Perceptor solemnly positioned himself perpendicular to his original spot to avoid being cornered by the overeager Lamborghini. "I was considering our...activities, and I realized that although you are inordinately kind, I have to rescind my offer and decline your advances."

Those big words were just as much a turn-on as before. "Meaning?" he prodded, reaching for the scientist eagerly.

Perceptor physically held him back with a strength Sideswipe had never seen before, one equal to Sunstreaker's. "I want to wait until I'm bonded," he declared, optics granite.

* * *

So Gears had been right. Sideswipe had stared at the scientist for a moment, frozen, and then stormed down the hall in spite of Perceptor's entreaties to return. There had been no assurances of devotion from the mech, no hurt exclamations, and certainly no attempts to reach an understanding. Perceptor frowned in regret. He was sorry to lose such an agreeable compatriot; however, as the minibot had warned him, Sideswipe only wanted One Thing. As indecisive as Perceptor was to share this One Thing with him, he _was _ certain that he was not prepared to withstand the emotional fallout of being considered yet another conquest when it was over. The mech's behavior in the last twelve hours had been a significant indication that there was no real feeling between the two. 

Still...Gears' opinion stung more than the advice and truth. It had been a tradeoff; _Quid pro quo_ in a situation where he stood to lose more than he was willing to give.

Perceptor mentally shrugged at the sight of Sideswipe's retreating back and sadly returned to his one true love: science. The pain would go away, he supposed, sooner or later. Until then...there were other things to concern himself over. At least he got his first kiss, and from a _Lamborghini brother_ no less.

* * *

Sunstreaker lifted his head up from fixing the prototype blaster (and more often than not checking himself out in the mirror) to see Sideswipe crash into their chambers and throw everything he could put his hands on against the frequently abused wall. Crash. Clank. Smash. If the plates weren't nailed down he would have thrown those too. When there was nothing left to tacitly destroy in his frustration, Sideswipe turned to his vocalizer. "**_AUGH!_**" 

"Told you so," his yellow counterpart said, handing him a glowing energon cube. Sideswipe yanked it away and ran out the door. Sunstreaker reached for the phone.

* * *

He leaned against the doorway, smirking with the triumph of a mech glad to have been around to catch Sunstreaker's call. Easy energon was his specialty, along with his capacity to bear heavy loads. Someone might contemptuously say his job as morale-booster was taken a bit too seriously. Those were the ones who obviously didn't have anything better to do but complain. 

Sideswipe stomped over, optics flashing navy and lips turned upside down in a furious half-circle. His arms swung madly as his speed accelerated upon sighting his target.

"Slow down! You're sloshing my energon." If Sideswipe registered the protest he didn't show it. Gears ducked into his room to avoid a collision.

"...wants to wait for someone to make a commitment he can slaggin' RUST in that fraggin' lab of his..." Sideswipe thrust the energon into Gears' waiting hands and flopped onto his recharge plate. "C'mon. I just want to forget the whole thing."

Gears poured some of the energon into two flasks and offered one to his guest, as was custom. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That's my job." Sideswipe drained the larger container and held it out for more. "Just watch it; my struts are still out of whack from battle."

* * *

Tracks inspected the tape he'd found attached to his door with suspicion. It was unmarked, but had a note that merely said "Sory its just odeo." Well, what the heck. It was not likely to have a recording of New Kids on the Block tunes, as it had last time. Tracks put it into his standard issue player and sat at his desk to find the datapad with his latest journal entry. 

_(Static)_

_First voice: Optimus Prime, come in!_

Tracks stopped his search and lifted his head to face the speakers, mouth open. His hand slowly moved to cover it.

_Second voice: Ultra Magnus, this is Jazz. What's up in your neck of Cybertron?_

_Ultra Magnus: We have been forced to relocate again, losing track of the female Autobots. Requesting information pertaining to a communication wave frequency._

_Jazz: Frequency is 2.220 X 1010000000 Code Beta Omicron._

_Ultra Magnus: Frequency accepted. We will await their response._

_Jazz: Any other requests?_

_Ultra Magnus: (Long pause. Guilty tone.) No. None._

_Jazz: (Voice softer.) Your mech's doing better, now that he's got a new pad to crash in. (Even softer, almost unintelligible.) He's thinkin' about you, Magnus. Don't worry, I'll let you know what he's doin.' I got your back._

_Ultra Magnus: (Relieved) I know. Thanks._

_Jazz: (Full volume.) Jazzmeister out._

It was almost impossible to choke the grief back, but somehow Tracks wiped away the fluid leaking from his eyes and reached to rewind the message...

...and in the hallway, Sunstreaker smiled to himself in satisfaction before returning to his room, exhausted. Take that, Prime.

**To be continued…**


	3. I'm Your Boogie Man

**Note: Nasty words/situations in this one. If you are easily offended, skip it.  
**

* * *

_(flash logo, cue announcer)_

"_This is Channel Seven Action News with Greg Williams and Debrah Lesinski. _

_(zoom in to head anchorman)_

"_Good evening, I'm Greg Williams. Our top story tonight: A United Nations session turned tragic this afternoon when a sudden Decepticon attack left several officials and a group of visiting high school students seriously wounded. Our Debrah Lesinski is on the scene. Deb?"_

_(cut to reporter)_

"_Thank you, Greg. A terrifying day for those at the United Nations, where an afternoon conference on world hunger was evacuated when officials discovered a Decepticon spy in the building."_

_(cut to stock shots of U.N. building, cue voiceover)_

"_The Decepticon spy Laserbeak was detected by Autobot Red Alert during a security scan of the building. The Decepticon opened fire on a visiting group of high school students, injuring several. Their teacher, Raul Martinez, is reportedly in a coma from absorbing most of the hits while trying to protect his students."_

_(cut to high school student)_

"_He was just tryin' to - sniff – keep us from being shot and - sniff – I kept screaming and everyone was yellin' 'oh my god' an – sniff-"_

_(cut back to reporter)_

"_Greg, we don't know what the Decepticons were trying to find out or why the conference was being held, but we WERE able to get a statement from an Autobot representative who informed us that Decepticon spies are difficult to detect even with the best defenses; even so, there will be more security precautions taken after this incident. Mr. Martinez is in ICU and the family has specifically requested no visitors. Back to you, Greg."_

_(cut back to anchorman)_

"_Thank you, Deb. In local news: is the city mayor really a man?"_

CLICK.

* * *

Bluestreak was bored. Not "work I've been putting off looks interesting" bored or "I may have to start shooting hostages" bored, but "what are the Lambos up to" bored, which was pretty disturbing when one considered the fact that anything they wanted to do usually made him their accomplice. 

On the other hand…there were eight hours to go before patrol and he'd watched "Animaniacs" and "Batman" and half of the news already, so what other choices did he really have?

Ignoring his better judgment, the Datsun took off for more mischievous pastures.

* * *

He found him in his laboratory, sulking over a chemical compound that confounded him at every turn. 

"They put the white stuff in through the holes in the bottom of the cake," Astrotrain explained, trying to be helpful.

"I ALREADY KNOW THAT!" Starscream screeched. "What is perplexing is THIS reading!"

Astrotrain grinned behind the datapad he'd caught from the irritated Seeker. "So they DO have a half-life," he chuckled.

Starscream joined him for a moment before regarding the triple-changer suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

Astrotrain shrugged. "I was bored."

"Ha!" He turned back to the packaging of the snack: cellophane showing the illustration of a large misshapen _thing_ wearing a cowboy hat and a lasso. "I'll believe that when I see it," he muttered.

"See what?" Blitzwing peeked in to see how the negotiations were going, in case Astrotrain needed help. The gray and purple triple changer sent him away with an unnoticed signal and a mystifying explanation. It didn't look like Starscream was working with milled uranium oxide to _him, _but whatever. Blitzwing retreated quickly, returning the approaching Frenzy's greeting. The tape was on his way to deliver a summons.

"Our server's down and Megatron wants Screamer to fix it. What's up with you?"

"Starscream's working with yellow cake," Blitzwing sighed, wondering if they were going to do _something_ anytime soon or would this whole weekend be a waste.

Frenzy chuckled. "Last week he tried to find out what the 11th spice was in that chicken recipe. He needs a _real_ hobby."

"Astrotrain's working on it."

* * *

"Have you seen Sideswipe?" 

Sunny glanced around his open cabinet door and shook his head. "That toaster's probably in the gym beating the slag out of Skids." The two had a casual fighting partnership in which they tried new moves on each other. The Datsun stood at the doorway for an awkward moment before he thanked Sunny and hurried out, leaving the twins' domicile practically unoccupied.

Once in a blue moon, Sunstreaker had the room to himself. Today's moon looked azure enough, considering Sideswipe was out for at least an hour. It was time for a little primping.

Sunstreaker loved polishing himself. He had squirreled away an excessive amount of Iacon Gold Laquer (sharing with no one, to Tracks' fury), bringing it out only on special occasions, which today was. Hey, having a room to himself was momentous enough. He turned on the radio but the only signal he could get was classical. A request would be given to Wheeljack to fix that broken antenna soon enough; but for now Sunstreaker had to settle for music that suggested the mood was "elegant."

Squeezing enough for his head onto the buff, Sunstreaker set to work rubbing the compound as he watched himself in the mirror. The light was better in his and Sideswipe's room if the hallway light spilled in, too, giving the yellow mech an advantage when he had to dig into the crease where his face met the rest of his helmet.

"Ahhhh," he sighed, satisfied. That part felt the best.

Every mech has a polishing pattern (the ones that can be bothered to do it). This Lamborghini was no different. He carefully made his way around the neck and shoulder area, using light strokes to prompt a sigh of relief at the soft buffing the compound gave as it made him glisten. As he worked he could hear an approaching conversation in the corridor, noisy and disruptive. It halted as soon as it neared the twins' dwelling.

"Oh Primus," one of them gasped. Sunny ignored him, shutting off his optics and reaching for that tough spot on his lower neck that he couldn't reach very well. He had to arch his shoulders while his hand slid downward, the sensation making him sigh a little.

"Trailbreaker!" someone hissed. "Get over here!"

"What is it?" a third voice came in, low and pleasant.

"Shh!" The violin concerto was not as loud as the hushing noise, but for the sake of this exercise the Lamborghini decided it was.

Sunstreaker had to swallow the maniacal giggle threatening to bubble up as the crowd continued growing in both size and volume. His hands continued to work their way down, down, DOWN to the tapered part of his back, which felt heavenly. His air intakes quickened a little.

"Wow," someone whispered in an awed tone.

He began to relax as he applied more polish to finish off his back. The compound had a warming affect on his cool plating, tingling when rubbed the right way. Sunny made sure it did just that.

"That's a skidplate you could bounce bolts off of," Trailbreaker muttered admiringly as Sunny rubbed the part in question. It felt so good he actually allowed a third of his mouth to slide upwards as he turned for a sideways profile. Somebody whistled.

"Will you guys shut up?" Cliffjumper hissed. Radio as a pretense or not, they were getting rowdy in the entrance. Sunny turned on his optics again, concentrating on the planes and angles of his arms as he lovingly caressed them with the buff. He _was_ beautiful; the perfect shade of golden maize accentuated with jet black in all the right places, not a dent or a scratch to mar the aesthetics, and a shine that even the vainglorious Tracks had to envy. Breathtaking, if robots could breathe. Sunny noticed a finger slightly misaligned. Usually he would fix it manually, but an impulse to ease it sloooooowly into his mouth, probing slightly before readjusting it with his jaw creating suction, proved to be a better idea.

"Holy slag," a new observer whispered. The violins sang longingly for Dvorak in Movement Number Two. Sunny knew because while he stretched in an appealing way the piece was being explained to the loyal listeners of Matt Janik, radio DJ. Sunny had to strain to make him out over the rising tide of voyeurs.

"That's it baby…a little further down…"

"BAM! That's HOT!"

"You know, he can hear you!" Skids was chased away and Warpath was told to shut up or he'd have NO trouble making BAM noises without a vocalizer. Up next: Mozart. Blah. Sunny wasn't a big fan of earth music, not like Jazz, who argued that all culture was worth appreciation, not just their own respective cities.' There wasn't much culture left from the twin's home municipality after the Decepticons leveled it. What few Autobots left tried to preserve the memories, but their perspectives were not all-encompassing; besides, it was hard to hold onto an ethnicity when there were no opportunities-or cohorts-to affirm it. Hound, in one of their more serious discussions (right now he was rubbing his hands together as Sunny leaned back against the wall to caress his chestplate _just so_), thought that Autobot culture was dead, unless they combined what they knew and made up the rest. No one was willing, and they never would be, because a conglomeration would involve compromise, and no mech would compromise the only aspects of their old lives in the name of group unity.

That was believable, especially when at this microscopic moment in time the group behind him still did not congeal. They were honking at each other like a gaggle of Canadian geese, each commenting on what THEY considered erotic. He could hear their mutterings behind him when he went back to staring in the mirror, smearing more of the compound onto his chestplate.

"I can't see!"

"Has he done his feet yet?"

"Move it!"

"Get in the back!"

"You make a better door than a window!"

Sideswipe glared as he shoved his way through the agitated crowd. "I LIVE HERE."

"SHHHHH!"

It was laughable. The issue that no one ever stopped to consider was why Sunny felt the urge to polish with his door open. Sunstreaker leaned _way_ over, legs shoulder-length apart, to get at his feet, and heard a low hiss. So that's what the as-yet-unacknowledged observers wanted. Slowly, making sure that he was bent in half at just the right angle, the yellow Lamborghini concentrated on this heels, to the somewhat stifled whimper of the group behind him.

It was like shooting an injured Deceptitraan. Once he was completely shiny a still bowed Sunny flattened the palm of his hand and smacked the right side of his rear end, glancing around his leg at the gaping mass of Autobot. One, two, four, ten-twelve! That was an impressive array of lustful brutes. A slow, satisfied smile emerged as he witnessed a guilty Prowl making a break for it now that he'd been caught.

"Did I miss a spot?" Sunstreaker asked the few dropped jaws trying to come back up. Dignity was scrambled for by those who assumed they had it to begin with. The long suppressed laugh came out as he stood up to applause and commentary.

"Better than TV."

"Do you need help with your back?"

"Makes me forget I'm -WHAM! - bonded."

"Bravo!"

"Seriously, let me help you with that back of yours."

"I can't feel my legs."

"I'm pretty sure I can't hear Mozart again without getting hot."

"I _know it_!"

Sideswipe shut the door on the dispersing congregation and glared at his brother. "Did you see Perceptor out there?"

That would make it thirteen (unspoken was the fact that the microscope probably left he minute he saw Sideswipe).

"Did you see Tracks?" Sunstreaker smirked. "He looked like he wanted to fire his missiles at me! And _PROWL_..."

"Prowl was waiting for me to show up so that he could yell at us for sawing the lab door in half," Sideswipe countered. He snickered. "We scared the slag out of Skyfire when he tried to slam the door in Gears' face. You should've seen it."

Sunstreaker gave a contemptuous snort. He _had _missed a spot: his elbows were drippy. "Blue was looking for you."

"Yeah. He's been acting weird around me lately." Sideswipe eyed his brother cautiously.

"He likes you." Bluestreak had no subtlety. Neither did Sunstreaker. "Go ahead. Just warn me when you're gonna do it so I can be GONE."

Sideswipe laughed uneasily. "I wouldn't do that to you, bro."

"Go ahead. It was a long time ago." Before the ark crashed Sunstreaker and Bluestreak had attempted to be a couple, but when they woke up from their long sleep things had cooled on Sunstreaker's part. Bluestreak stayed his friend in hopes of a change of spark until the tumult that was Hound made it obvious that Sunny had no intention of reliving history. Sunstreaker genuinely did not care, and told his brother as much.

"Sunny, _I_ care. I wouldn't do that to you." Sideswipe didn't touch him, knowing it would only tick off his twin if he smudged the polish; instead he gave him a schmaltzy smile and a cute voice. "I love you, man."

This mush was too much. "You sound like Warpath and Cosmos," he taunted. "You're not going out with Blue 'cause you're not worthy."

Sideswipe crouched down to see if the tube of Superglue he'd misplaced last night was under his recharge plate. 'Not worthy' was a good way of putting it, but the yellow mech was sick of hearing it already.

"Yeah. I got something better goin' on with Prowl. Since he's been riding us so much I figured I should make it official."

Sunny didn't waver. "Good. He'll need a distraction when he sees what we're doing next."

* * *

"You have not explained your decision to annoy me as I work," Starscream prompted. 

Astrotrain tried to smile pleasantly, instead looking like he was being fed into a vat of acid feet first. "Blitzwing and I are-_sorry_-about what happened last week."

"You should be!" Starscream had been lured down into the basement by Octane so that Blitzwing and his associate could ransack his laboratory. Starscream had been tipped off by Swindle (one of the things he had learned early in his Decepticon experience was to have any mech who could be sold kept on retainer). When he returned earlier than anticipated he walked in on the two sharing energy fields on his table. In the usual course of events Starscream had a conniption, Megatron found out about everything that had happened, the triple-changers piled the blame on their youngest comrade, and Octane was sent back to Cybertron demoted, ruining all chances of he and Starscream rekindling their fiery relationship. Both Blitzwing and Astrotrain hid from their former Air Commander until now (STILL classified by an annoyed Megatron as 'foot soldier' for a record length of time!) when they needed him the most.

"Does this mean you're still mad at us?"

He received a grunt as a reply.

"C'mon, Starscream, you guys broke up WAY before that happened, remember? We kind of did you a favor."

"Your concept of a 'favor' differs radically from mine," the scientist replied, noting the flammability of the human snack cake. "I'd hate to see your idea of revenge."

He couldn't have planned a better set-up if he tried. "That's why I'm here. We need your help to get back at Megatron for taking Octane out of here."

Starscream burst into contemptuous laughter, ignoring the conflagration in front of him to savor the lunacy of that statement. He pointed to the doorway presenting its latest arrival.

"The day I aid you in another one of your petro-rabbit brained endeavors is the day that pipsqueak over there comes bearing good news."

Frenzy hated Starscream. As he stood in the doorway, wondering how to best retort, he glanced at Astrotrain, who looked as though he were trying not to swallow a mouthful of used oil.

"So what message do you bring me, Rumble?"

Frenzy REALLY hated Starscream. "Megatron wants to see you."

"As expected." Starscream put out the Twinkie fire and hustled his observers through the door, locking it behind him. "Do not come into my presence with your paltry apologies and poorly fabricated schemes again, Astrotrain. I'd rather be Megatron's Deceptitraan for the rest of my existence before I support another triple changer debacle."

"Fine," the gray and purple mech sulkily replied, hiding his delight well. Octane saying Starscream was smarter than they thought - is, was, and always would be a joke, as far as the rest of them were concerned.

* * *

When they reconstructed their ship to suffice as an underwater base the largest room was secured as the Decepticon nucleus. Megatron, the nucleolus, scowled down on his mitochondria for not assembling enough chloroplasts for the rest of the body of Cybertronians. As Starscream worked to reconnect the Golgi Apparatus he listened to the questioning of Frenzy. 

"You have been functioning on this planet for six earth years." Megatron leaned onto one hand, crooked smile radiating some kind of disconcerting mixture of menace and charm.

"Uh, yeah, boss." He was far too informal. Thundercracker, unwilling institutor of Decepticon protocol, waspishly shot the small mech on the shoulder as a reprimand and corrected him. Frenzy carefully kneeled, gave the Decepticon salute and apologized, keeping his visor focused on the floor in deference.

Their leader gave no acknowledgement to any of this sidetrack, as was correct. Instead, he asked the mech what he had been doing with his time. Frenzy politely replied that he had been a key component in energon collection and a helping hand in battle.

"What have you learned in your time here?"

Frenzy paused, as he should have (to show the weightiness of one's question, since the longer it took one to answer a query the more respect you showed), and replied that from Soundwave he had learned the best ways to maximize the resources of a planet rich in energon, as well as successful battle techniques. Starscream had a good snicker at that. Their leader did not glance his way, instead praising the red and black mech for listening to his superior's prompting.

"In all of his sycophantic training did he inform you of the more _personal_ duties of a Decepticon soldier?"

Frenzy had been uneasy before; now he was visibly shaken. Starscream could see the tableau in front of him flicker, each in a private recollection of the first time Megatron had asked them that. Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Dirge shuddered slightly. Motormaster scowled. Soundwave took a step forward, as though to bid his beloved cassette return, but caught himself in time. Over all of this the nucleolus benevolently smirked.

"Megatron, uh, my lord, uh...Rumble did." His voice squeaked slightly. "He said we have a duty to…to…prove…our loyalty to you by giving ourselves…completely." The tiny mech was trembling so hard his kneeling position wavered. He placed a fist on the floor for balance.

"Indeed. Well put." The friendly posture changed to a more authoritative one. "Considering your knowledge of this particular catechism, it _pains_ me to hear of your recent activities with a fellow combatant." Soundwave pressed a button and the picture of Frenzy and Reflector, _en flagrant delit_ in a rather graphic pose, caused more than one Decepticon to audibly react.

Starscream stood up, his task accomplished. So Megatron's spies had spies…and even Soundwave's own creations were not safe. Frenzy sputtered, panicking, as Megatron's ion cannon wheezed.

This was not new. Reflector had been dealt with this morning in a more private meeting, something Starscream had heard about from Thundercracker. This time there were more Decepticons and none of them looked unhappy about this. They looked amused. Motormaster stared at the picture and Skywarp was chuckling with Thundercracker while Dirge wiped his optics and Soundwave blankly stared at a spot on the wall behind the other Seekers. The high-pitched laugh was out before he realized it.

"Are you still here?" his leader snarled.

"I am delighted you're going to execute him over _this_!" howled the jet in response. "Bad taste should be punished."

"I did not invite your contributions; however, you do have a previously unconsidered point. Frenzy, you are hereby sentenced to guard duty until I feel like remembering you. The rest may leave; I wish to speak to him and my _former _second-in-command alone."

Starscream watched them shuffle out and awaited his punishment as he kneeled in front of the main source of his problems.

Megatron scowled from his throne. "Starscream, do our newest recruit the honor of presenting your endless fount of knowledge. What are the four acceptable loves of a Decepticon?"

His voice never inflected. "The four acceptable loves of a Decepticon: the cause, yourself, power, and your leader."

"Unacceptable," their leader less-than-begrudgingly acknowledged. "The order was incorrect."

"I graduated - with top honors - _before_ your revisions were instituted, _mighty_ Megatron." Starscream's sneer was as thick as the layer of mud that clung to the base. "Although I am certain you expected me to rank them as love for your leader, the cause, Cybertron, and energon."

"_Those _are correct."

The Seeker snorted. Only in Megatron's twisted processor.

* * *

"Prove it," Ratchet challenged. 

"I agree with Ratchet," Prowl chimed in.

Perceptor protested. "Empirical substantiation would be difficult."

"Ah'm tellin' ya, there are FORE types of love in yore lahfe: yore first, the one that wanted ya more, the one ya wanted more, and the one ya end up with. In no pah'ticyaler order after yore first."

The debate had begun when Perceptor shyly confessed to a curious group of Optimus' friends that he'd never been in love before. They had cornered him in line for energon, demanding to know if their observations between the two were valid, were they an item? Perceptor's denial lead to teasing, then incredulous questions, leading up to the rhetorical question of just how many great loves DID a mech expect to have in his life?

"The humans only expect one," Smokescreen announced. The mechs found this idea ludicrous.

"Autobot folklore has stated six," Perceptor inserted. No one agreed.

"You aren't kidding. Folklore! I'll be lucky if I ever see anyone worth _dating_, let alone being in _love_ with!" exclaimed Ratchet, bitterly disappointed with the professional mind merge that kept him chained to someone he didn't care for at all, and another – later - merge that was better off dead.

"You have a personality that guarantees your status," assured Prowl.

The CMO growled at the strategist. "Whaddaya mean by _that_?"

"My apologies; upon hearing your tone I concluded your preference of being alone." Ratchet neither confirmed nor refuted his statement, instead demanding Ironhide substantiate his assertion with an example.

"Okay. Mah first love was mah mentor. My second love, Fortrunner, wanted to be with me more than Ah did. Chromia, mah third love, was the one I ended up with. Ah never had the love I wanted more, BUT ask any 'bot here an' he'll tell ya about theirs."

"I will, then. Hey! Jazz! Get over here! You losers, too!"

Perceptor mentally shrank back as the Lamborghini brothers, accompanied by their entourage, listened to Ratchet's explanation and proceeded to react as diversely as possible. The only mech who agreed with Ironhide was Sideswipe.

"I've seen 'em all, and that's a pretty good range of categories," he said, optics finally resting on Perceptor. "You forgot the section for sadistic toasters who only want to hurt you."

Jazz agreed, stating his last relationship. Blaster had his nerve, waiting almost a year after their first kiss before making his move and then being with Jazz only about an earth month before declaring him incompatible. That was impossible!

Prowl nodded. "I believe the fault lies in Blaster." Jazz beamed.

"Nobody asked _you_," Ratchet snarled, still smarting from Prowl's last comment. "Maybe you _are_ an irritation, Jazz."

They almost made it: half a second lapsed before the whole table erupted in guffaws.

* * *

Megatron's cackle irritated Starscream into protesting that he was _sorry_ he'd learned the _correct_ idea, instead of his propaganda. 

"Will ya shut up? You're pissing him off!" Frenzy hissed as loudly as he dared.

"Stay out of this, Reflector-lover." Megatron's still outcast second-in-command had not feared any type of retribution from anyone for so long he'd forgotten that being at the bottom of the hierarchy meant he had no power. He also had nothing to lose. Megatron had nothing to gain, either; last year the scientist realized that Megatron's mind invasion had somehow worn off. He didn't know how he knew, it just dawned on him one afternoon while he was in his lab. The Decepticon leader had kept his distance.

"Bite me, basement boy. I heard about Octane."

"Enough!" their leader bellowed. After a few seconds of glaring, he sat back down. "It seems that I have been too lax on both of you, if you're inclined to chase after your fellow warriors like a couple of Autobots on leave. This is obviously a _symptom_ of a larger _problem_." One corner of his mouth curled up sardonically. "Neither of you has been called to pay homage to me, for my own reasons. Apparently you are aching for some kind of social distraction, leading me to conclude I must reconsider my evaluation of you." The two subjects exchanged worried glances. Megatron's condescending talk made Frenzy feel as though he were falling off a cliff, shot, waiting to hit the ground.

Megatron stood up and walked down to both of his kneeling audience, head tilted as though he were considering a serious problem, instead of one in which violence would have provided a quicker, better solution. His optics glowed.

"Kiss him."

"Whaa?" Frenzy's head snapped up, forgetting his manners in confusion. Megatron slapped the cassette hard enough to slide him across the room as Starscream flinched.

"If you are so desperate to indulge in the joys of contact for the amusement of all Decepticons-" The tape of Starscream and Octane had been passed around like an oilcan before a spy mission. "-then you will have no qualms in engaging in such activities for _mine_."

Frenzy still could not process this. "Megatron! You can't be serious!" He hated Starscream! If that stupid Seeker got any closer to him, he'd shoot him.

Megatron's lowest foot soldier scooped the smaller mech up. Grimacing in distaste, he confirmed Frenzy's fear. "Yes, he is." 'This had better be good,' he thought as his revulsion was swallowed by the tape's mouth meeting his.

Nothing was more humorous to the Decepticon leader than his servants making sour faces as they did such reluctant tender motions for his entertainment. Megatron laughed hysterically, calling for more.

* * *

"AUGH!" The twins looked up to see the human Spike racing away from a discombobulated Bumblebee, who was calling to the teen that what he saw was not what he thought it was. 

"You were going at it with GEARS!"

The yellow mini-bot shrugged. "Well, then, it WAS what you thought."

"You told me you guys didn't do that!" The human waved his arms around the commissary in agitation as he signaled the other (previously unnoticed due to their subtlety) couples in the room. "That you were asexual."

"A what?" asked Sideswipe, now interested in the conversation. So Bumblebee DID have it in him. Only Gears could bring it out.

Bumblebee ignored the larger Autobots. "Spike...we're in combat a lot. When we're not, we like to, uh, you know - relieve the pressure with some one-on-one time."

"Is _that_ all you guys do? Fuck and fight?" Spike's eyes were as round as Ultra Magnus'.

Jazz snickered while the twins exchanged puzzled glances with Bluestreak and Blaster. "I've been meaning to ask you, what's a fuck?" They'd heard the word before, even used it, but had never made its proper definition a high priority, preferring to concentrate on the distracting chaos of war and fun that was their lives instead of ubiquitous American words.

The human, startled, shrugged. This clique of Autobots did not talk to him very often, shunning most of humanity unless it was in their way on the road. He didn't even realize they were listening. "You know...have sex."

"Where do you get sex?" Sideswipe interrogated. He'd heard the word 'fuck' in movies, but was unsure of its context with this 'sex' thing. Quentin Tarantino movies had a myriad of uses for 'fuck.' Jazz cracked up. "Shut up, Jazz. Spike?" The young man was apparently embarrassed with the unwanted attention his usage of a casual oil-rig word had elicited.

"Uh...I can't explain it."

"Could you show it?" Bluestreak asked, as Jazz laughed harder.

Spike blushed. "Not-Hey!" he called, inspired. "Do you guys have a tape player?"

"In the main control panel room," Sideswipe explained, curiosity growing. "Why?"

* * *

"Suck my cock, ho!" 

Jazz rolled on the floor while Sunny covered his optics in disgust. Sideswipe looked at the cardboard cover of the tape. "Backdoor Sluts 5." Bluestreak leaned forward to get a better view, as though that would clear the whole mess up.

"THIS is fucking?" he demanded. "Humans sticking things into holes and making cow noises?"

Jazz started pounding the ground. Spike shrugged apologetically.

"It's not all like that."

"I'll say!" Bumblebee put in. "When was the last time you saw two females attack a male like that?"

"I saw it on the Discovery Channel," replied Optimus Prime, who had just come in after complaints about the volume of noise coming out of the main control room necessitated his intervention. "But they were lions." Spike dove for the remote in mortification, but not before they all got an opticful of something called a 'three-way.' Two elegant blue-eyed, olive-skinned women, identical in appearance, were lowering themselves onto a man lying on the floor while trying to (what looked like) bite each other's faces off. "Spike, the noise volume must be diminished. Perceptor is complaining."

"Frag Perceptor," growled Sideswipe, optics on fire. Prime ignored it, no small feat, being that the pronouncement was the only noise in the room now that Spike had stopped the movie. Optimus asked him why he'd done that. Was what they saw unacceptable?

"My dad would think so. He calls it pornography. It-it's not something humans like to talk about." He shoved the tape into his backpack, face red. "In fact, they pretend it doesn't exist. Most people think it's a sin."

Prime nodded his head. "Perhaps if this is the case you should not be exposing my warriors to it."

"Sorry Optimus," he muttered. He had to go anyway, he was late for class. Bumblebee transformed and took off with his human compatriot, no doubt arguing over the stupidity of Spike playing the tape. Prime shooed everyone but Bluestreak out; he had to talk to him.

Jazz whistled. "Man! We gotta get more of that stuff! That was hilarious!"

Sunstreaker scowled deeper. "That was _awful_."

"I bet I could get it," Sideswipe offered, always eager to reconnect himself with any planet's black market. "If it's a sin like Sparkplug says, then there has to be a lot of it out there. We could have a party!"

"I'll spread the word. Get more of that three-way stuff!" the Porsche called, hurrying down the hallway to spread the word.

* * *

Frenzy bolted out of Megatron's throne room, practically sobbing, as Starscream rested on his back and awaited his leader's dismissal of him, too. 

"You have again validated your usefulness," Megatron stated, still amazed. He'd gotten them to not only pervert themselves for his divertissement; they'd swallowed their pride hard enough to let him become their new focus halfway through. Starscream had kept the sour facial expression and Frenzy had whimpered for Soundwave twice, but other than that…

Blocking his line of vision was a lean blue arm, with tapered fingers gleaming in the harsh light, curling and uncurling as they tried to rid themselves of the horrible memories that coursed through their owner like the energon in his pipes. The fingers itched for glory but grasped at thin air, flopping like a dying fish and for some reason making Megatron uncomfortable.

It was the same unsettling feeling he'd experienced the day he invaded Starscream's processor, the sensation that something was wrong, that he was not in control of the situation. That same unease had returned the day the Seeker had managed to disconnect himself from Megatron. They'd never recovered the tie, nor had Megatron found any leads to re-obtain the connection. Still unpredictable, Starscream had again proven his unstable reliability by debasing himself in disgusting ways without complaint. Right now he was somberly awaiting his leader's next statement, seeming to know that no compliment of Megatron's arrived alone. He was right. The fingers twitched.

"What leaves much to be desired is your technique."

He sat up and was promptly smacked back down for being higher than his leader. "My technique is _fantastic_," Starscream snarled. "None have complained."

"A fourth-rate Autobot and a new triple-changer don't know any better. _I_ am not so easily conciliated." He motioned for the Seeker to lie on top of him. "Come over here and demonstrate to _me_ what makes you _fantastic_."

* * *

"Who's your daddy, bitch?" snarled the silver-haired, forty-ish male. 

"Ah! Ah!" shrieked the brunette woman as an entire fist disappeared in between her legs. Sunstreaker got up and left the room, ostensibly to 'hurl,' making Sideswipe laugh harder.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh. No. Candy! My. Roommate." The female, although nude, showed no shame as the other poorly- dressed female, a blonde, wagged a playful finger at them. She had just come in from somewhere cold, according to Wheeljack.

"Cindy? How COULD you? That is my boyfriend!"

"How about you join us?" the male parroted in a fake naughty voice.

"Okay!" she cried enthusiastically, dress removed in one fluid motion. She was naked underneath, but had kept her white ankle socks and pink high-heeled shoes on for some reason. Ironhide proclaimed it 'haht' and guzzled more energon.

"You are a sick mech, 'Hide," proclaimed Cliffjumper, unable to tear his optics away from the bouncing lower half of the brunette.

"This one is monotonous! Play the hentai!" That had to be Skyfire, the cartoon fan. From an unexplained and frightening place he'd produced something called 'Alien Robot Love.' Sideswipe's procurement had only required a credit card. Who KNEW where the large jet had acquired his tape?

"No way! The male has the females upside down!" Wheeljack shoved Jazz out of the way.

"What are you doing, taking notes?"

"You know he is!" called Cliffjumper.

"Blaster would not consent to an entire arm up his tailpipe, Jazz. Sorry." Skyfire glanced at Sideswipe pleadingly. Now that his former flame had been badly burned by Perceptor, Sideswipe was, at least in Skyfire's optics, forgiven for past transgressions.

Jazz chuckled sarcastically, mouth twisted in a sneer. "We broke up. Thanks for reminding me." Blaster was there, too, but had ignored Jazz the whole night.

"I am sorry. I merely wished to accentuate the rhetoric of who would enjoy such an invasion."

"Ah Dunno. Did Stahrscream lahk it?" Ironhide was a mean drunk. Sideswipe exploded with laughter, enjoying this far too much. As far as _he_ was concerned, Skyfire had a long way to go before _he_ was forgiven.

"I'm coming!" screamed the blonde. The brunette echoed the sentiment, mirroring her roommate.

"She's already there," commented Wheeljack as Sunstreaker returned with more high-grade energon, gleaned from their still stashed in the closet next door. He demanded to know if this movie marathon was finished.

"One more," Sideswipe assured him, pushing 'play' to start Skyfire's science fiction.

"It is the year 2005..." droned a low voice during the credits.

"Sucks!" pronounced Tracks from his cuddling session with Blaster.

"Go back to cheating on Ultra Magnus!" snarled Sunstreaker, who seemed the most resentful of Tracks' presence. "Nobody invited you, anyway!"

"Shut up!" the others hollered. Sunstreaker began to dispense the energon instead of watching the program's content intensify.

Two identical robots, in the most ridiculous bodies any of them had ever seen, removed plating to reveal human parts. They began messaging each other in strange ways, one stooping down to put one of the other's smallest appendages in his mouth.

No one spoke. The two were getting more enthusiastic, begging the other for 'it.' They called each other baby. As they continued their game, another watched them, chuckling as he loaded his weapon. Suddenly, he was as stiff as they were, playing with his gun as he swore vengeance. The clone robots rolled around on the ground, changing positions every so often. Finally, the other robot 'couldn't take it anymore' and crashed the party, demanding to be 'serviced' before he 'destroyed them.' The two obliged, moaning as they placed their arms around him and alternated who kissed him.

Fifteen Autobots collectively sat up straighter, lapsing into a shocked silence that allowed them to hear Cosmos and Warpath talking as they walked by in the hallway. Sideswipe had no idea why. It wasn't any different from the other smut they'd been laughing at a few minutes ago. The cooing and moaning, as ridiculous as it seemed to the twins, was taken as seriously as a battle briefing by the others. He didn't have long to find out the processing behind their behavior.

"Hey…Sunny? Siders?...Do you guys…do that?" Bumblebee asked, voice in a hushed tone, as though the awe of the idea were too much.

"If you do, can I get in on it?" chimed Gears.

"Yeah!" chorused a few others.

"No!" cried Sideswipe indignantly.

"Aw, c'mon!"

"That would be fun!"

"You guys share a lot of stuff…how would this be any different?"

"Aren't you even the least bit curious?"

"I wouldn't mind Sideswipe and TRACKS."

"Or Red Alert and Sunny."

Blaster's voice rang out authoritatively. "No way. It's the twins or nobody."

Sunstreaker got in front of the television- as the villain, having had his fill of the two he'd been sworn to kill, began his murderous rampage- ignoring the boos from the mini-bots. "I will only say this once: _we do not share_. Anything. Ever. Get whatever disgusting picture you have in your processor erased or get out, you weirdos."

He meant it. In the midst of the stampede for the door Skyfire paused to retrieve his tape, exhibiting his disappointment with a black scowl. Sunstreaker glared at all of them as Jazz, still sitting on the floor, grinned like an idiot, head swiveling to observe the grumbling Autobots' departure.

"I thought it was kinda cool," the Porsche commented mischievously.

"Whatever. Get out." Sunstreaker was not gentle. He didn't have to be, not with the laid-back personality of Jazz. Sure enough, the saboteur stood up without being offended as the crankier of the two settled down on his recharge plate.

"I wanted to ask you guys a favor."

"No," Sunny interjected before Sideswipe could be more diplomatic. "I don't share anything with him."

"Not even for revenge?" Jazz had a very devious glint in his visor. Sideswipe said he was listening; Sunny, facing the wall, declared he was not. Jazz walked over whispered in Sunny's audios that he was the only one who could do it, and if he didn't think he was popular enough, there was always Tracks…

The yellow mech brushed the black and white off of him like a fly. "I'll listen. But I won't do it."

"Maybe I _should_ ask Tracks. He's a lot better looking-"

"Will you cut the Seekerslag and get on with it?"

"I want to get back at Blaster." It did not produce the reaction he'd hoped for. His audience shrugged. "He dumped me! _ME!_ The Jazzmiester!" Sunstreaker replied that everyone gets dumped sooner or later; Sideswipe told him to shut up. "I want him to see that he threw away somethin' sweet. So I thought, what's something every Autobot wants?"

"Besides their old lives back?"

"I don't know, time off would be nice."

"Megsy's head on a platter."

"I miss Cybertron."

"A new enamel coating, maybe."

"Close, but no cigar. They want _you_. Better still, _both_ of you. At the same time." Surely now he would get the reaction he hoped for. He did.

"No fraggin way!"

"I'm not making out with my own metal and energy to make _you_ look better to _Blaster_!"

"That's just _wrong!_"

"_Get out!"_ Sunstreaker stood up to confront the irritation head-on.

"Hey! Don't hit the gas before you get outta park! Let me finish!" He had to move quickly or else he'd be pounded into a new alt mode. "You would PRETEND to do it. Not really _do_ it. It'll be fun!"

"Fun for YOU!" Sunstreaker was lifting him up to throw him out on his tailpipe.

"So do you think Hound'll hit the brakes when he notices you're having fun without him?" the Porsche wheedled softly.

Sunstreaker dropped his cargo, returning to his plate as he appealed to his brother. "Will you get him to talk like he has a processor?"

Sideswipe shook his head sadly at the mech on the floor. "Jazz…you can't _really_ expect us to pretend we're into that kind of thing just for everyone else's entertainment."

"Like Perceptor's?" Jazz never missed a trick. "You have no idea what kind of reaction this'll get. It'll be big. Trust me, things'll get interesting if we do this." He smiled convincingly. No reaction. "C'mon, for me." Sunstreaker threw a wrench at him. Jazz ducked. "I thought you could handle anything," he sighed, shrugging disappointedly. "Now…"

They exchanged facial communication for a silent moment. "Two conditions." Sideswipe snapped.

"Three," his brother interrupted.

"One, we don't touch each other. We'll touch you, but I ain't going NEAR him."

Jazz nodded.

"Two. We say when it's over."

"That's negotiable." They might get cold feet before it got interesting if they had too much power over the situation.

"These aren't flexible. You get 'em or you don't."

Jazz sighed. He could always depend on his charm to keep them. "Sure."

"Three," Sunny rushed, before Siders could say it, "I'M the better kisser."

"You are _not_!" Sideswipe objected, throwing a datapad with pictures of cars on it.

"I _am_. Who else practiced on everybody in the Academy?" Sunstreaker threw it back.

"Who would be dumb enough to be proud of that?" An oil bottle sailed across the room, bouncing off of the yellow arm raised to block it.

Sunny snarled like a captive beast. "At least I _got_ some action." Jazz ducked a ricocheting blaster piece.

"I chose quality over quantity, and they rated me the best." The polish rag didn't do much harm.

"That's 'cause the geek squad never had _me_. If they did, you'd know they'd never say that!" An energon vial smashed against Sideswipe, who didn't flinch.

"They weren't all geeks. And if they _had_ known you, they'd have _known_ the truth!" Sunstreaker had to be careful of the shards coming at him like tiny, paint scratching asteroids.

Apparently the twins' laziness prevented them from getting up and confronting the other. Jazz saw no advantage in mediating their dispute. Well, maybe one.

"I could help you out with this," the visored mech offered, finally getting a word in edgewise. "No problem. Who's first?"

He was pelted with enough junk to encourage his escape.

* * *

The main Decepticon meeting room had no charm about it. There was no furniture, no décor to speak of, and because energon was rationed to maximize their exported goods there was nothing to consume; instead it was a room for one to distrustfully eye his comrades until Megatron called them up to perform their own tasks. 

Soundwave quietly repaired Ravage's broken claws, an injury courtesy of that irritating mech Bumblebee. Most of his cassettes had some sort of work done to them after battles in the common room due to Starscream being the only one with a laboratory. If this inconvenienced him the tape player never commented. Astrotrain asked him about it as they awaited Frenzy's return.

"Facilities unnecessary," he droned. "Maintenance requests are infrequent."

Blitzwing had been having a boasting competition with Skywarp and Thundercracker (Skywarp was lying, Thundercracker called him out twice for inconsistencies) when hurried footsteps rushed into the common room to produce a disheveled Frenzy searching eagerly for his master.

"Boss!" he cried, racing over and transforming in the air. Blitzwing glanced at his fellow triple-changer, who nodded furtively.

Soundwave pushed open his tape receiver and allowed the black and red mech in, stalwart face never revealing what Frenzy told him, but his body language gave it away. After a few minutes of silent playback the large blue mech sat down. He drew his knees up in his arms, body completely hugging the tape inside of him.

"Boss?" Rumble asked. No response. Ravage urgently scratched the white and silver leg and was ignored as well.

Skywarp snorted. Thundercracker glanced over at the Coneheads, who were watching the play in front of them intently. Blitzwing saw his window.

"What happened, Frenzy?" he asked.

Soundwave transformed and allowed the small tape to tell the story, to the horror of all around him. When he finished, Rumble picked up both the tape and his master and held the whole package in his small arms like a child holds a teddy bear.

Astrotrain stepped in, fist in the air. "Fellow Decepticons! For too long we have endured the disgusting advances of the one we have sworn our loyalty to, the one who should not require any more affirmation! Before you disregard my address, recall that as he does to the least of us, he will eventually do to ALL of us!"

"Look what he did to Frenzy!" cried Rumble. "How is kissing _Starscream_ something we have to do to prove we're good Decepticons!"

"Yeah!" cried the Coneheads.

"Blow it out your afterburners," sneered Thundercracker. "You triple changers are always looking for an excuse to take over."

"Not true. I don't want to take over." Lie! "I want him to leave us alone. To treat us like soldiers, not like Autobots!"

"Eh," the others replied, turning away. They had heard enough permutations of this claim to have a quick saturation point.

He had to keep his cool, to avoid getting in trouble. "Suit yourselves," he shrugged. Blitzwing nodded surreptitiously and turned away to work on the other Seekers a little better.

* * *

Perceptor had taken to going offline mid-work. He could no longer lie on his plate at night and allow drowsiness to conquer him; someone had figured out how to override the door's code lock. Instead he worked until exhaustion overtook him. Unfortunately, his sleeping in the lab incited mischief as well. More than once he'd come online in microscope mode inside a shoebox or a coffee can or the trunk of Carly's new car or underwater or in a doghouse or hanging from an airplane wing or in a high school science room closet with other microscopes, or, worst of all, glued to the ceiling. Wheeljack found him and ran for the acetone. 

"Quickly, Wheeljack!" he called impatiently. Prime would be there in to learn their new security system in ten minutes. Those cursed Lamborghini brothers!

The scientist could not see much, but he heard plenty: the laughter from passersby who noticed him was barely concealed. Jazz came in for the meeting and leaned against the table, singing 'Stuck on You.' Prowl followed and frowned, radioing Ironhide to give the twins a week of oil change duty when he ran into them. Perceptor seethed some more as Jazz continued humming and a strange sound began to gain momentum from the far end of the hall.

The whirring noise was faint at first. Whoosh. Whoosh. Crash! Clank clank clank whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh! It grew louder. Whoosh. Clank clank whoosh!

CRASH!

"Perceptor! Where-oh." Snicker. "I assumed my predicament was humiliating, but yours is _far_ above mine."

About one-hundred fifteen meters above, to be exact. The twins had found the highest point in the lab to fasten him upside down to the one part of the Ark that had the most difficult access. Perceptor focused his lens to note that Tracks was having problems standing. He wobbled, holding on to the table for dear life. His feet were not near the floor. Jazz began a new song. **"I got a brand new pair of roller-skates, you got a brand new key!"**

"I hate you," Tracks growled before losing his balance and crashing to the floor again.

Wheeljack ran in with a suspension device, acetone, a screwdriver, a smiling Blaster, and Optimus Prime. Blaster took a look at Perceptor and cracked up.

"Nice!" he howled as Wheeljack floated up to free the scientist. Prime told him to be a little more considerate. "While we're waiting, Optimus, I was hoping you'd let me talk to you about an idea Tracks and I had."

Tracks wobbled a little, managing to keep his balance. He glided over to Blaster and grabbed his arm, not wanting to let go. Blaster patted him on the shoulder with his free hand. "You see, we were talking about all that time we're gonna spend in Phoenix/Tucson helping the government with that 'weapon' they want us to make."

"_You_ were," Prowl declared, frowning as he pointed to the ceiling. "The rest of us were keeping it _classified_ until Prime made the company-wide announcement."

Blaster looked up to see Wheeljack using the screwdriver as a lever to free Perceptor. "Oops." He grinned sheepishly.

"What Blaster was driving at," Tracks interrupted, almost losing his footing again, "is that we thought it might be good P.R. if we did a charity event for the town while we were there."

Jazz lost his amused smile as he watched Perceptor fall past Wheeljack's attempt to catch him, landing in Prime's arms instead. Optimus hastily placed the scientist on the lab table and backed away, giving him room to transform and to look significantly embarrassed.

"Wait a minute! That was _my_ idea!" The Porsche had discussed it with Blaster the night before he was dumped.

Blaster feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway Prime, Tracks and I thought about stuff to do, and I thought it would be really cool to do a basketball game."

"I like it." Prime couldn't resist a chance to play that sport, meaning Blaster's idea now would get any green light the tape player needed. Jazz frowned.

"Here's the twist: you know how people like gimmicks? How about this one: We do it on those new Rollerblades people are buying like crazy, so we can get Rollerblade to sponsor us."

Tracks lifted a leg to show what had appeared to be roller skates but were, in reality, shoes with a line of wheels looking like a cross _between_ roller skates and ice skates. Jazz had heard of them. He'd shown Blaster what they looked like when they were watching MTV. It looked like that no-talent tape player was taking every idea Jazz had shared with him.

"Autobots on wheels?" Prime glanced at Prowl, who shook his head. Tracks was excellent at reading Optimus' body language (being the target of his animosity, thus the reason why _he_ was being quiet and falling all over himself on these stupid skates; Blaster had hoped seeing Tracks degraded would put Prime in a more favorable mood). He whispered something into Blaster's audios sharply.

"I could hold some practice sessions, so that we can get better at it," he suggested in a wheedling tone. Prime, although masked, did not change his expression. Tracks elbowed Blaster. "The proceeds go to AIDS research. You know, that disease Chip is working on?" Prime had a soft spot for the humans who had helped them when they first got here. It had hurt his feelings when the brilliant human Chip had nobly decided to cast off his electrical engineering career track and find a cure for retroactive viruses, but the heroic work the red-haired human was accomplishing had eradicated this feeling and replaced it with pride. Optimus couldn't resist finding ways to assist Chip's research. Jazz frowned deeper.

"I will allow it on the proviso that you make all of the arrangements yourself," Prime declared. Prowl still shook his head. "I would also prefer it did not interfere with our work with the United States Government and the United Nations."

Tracks and Blaster exchanged glances, shivering excitedly. "It won't, Prime. Thanks!" He pulled his Corvette companion out the door as Red Alert came in. Perceptor walked over to his extension of Teletraan-1 and began his presentation without a hiccup.

* * *

Always on time, Motormaster announced himself to Megatron's door, awaiting clearance to enter. (Being late guaranteed you a rough night. NO ONE was late.) As he waited, he pondered what he had heard from Blitzwing and Astrotrain. This was stupid. He didn't want to do nasty things with his leader; there were lines to draw, one of them being that there was no way on Cybertron he would willingly pay homage to his leader in this disgusting fashion again without better compensation. Astrotrain had been right, no matter how much Skywarp and Thundercracker said otherwise. 

"Clear," the door announced, sliding open. The silver mech was not there.

"Megatron?" he asked. Although that pain-in-the-tailpipe Thundercracker had told them to address him as 'my leader' Motormaster would not do that. He was his _own_ master.

"Leave me." Megatron rose from his recharge plate. "Order Dirge and Ramjet to see me in your place."

"Uh-" This was not what Motormaster had expected.

"I loathe to repeat myself. Go!"

"Uh-oh, um, kay." He wasn't going to linger. Motormaster hustled out of the room, debating whether or not to be relieved or offended his duty went unfulfilled.

* * *

Turn the wing nuts. Loosen the nuts and remove them from the screw. Remove the oil pan. Drain the oil pan. Drip drip drip drip drip - 

"AUGH!" Sideswipe shook his head. Changing oil was messy, disgusting work. The closest thing Sideswipe had ever seen to it would be when Carly changed baby Daniel's diapers. At least human excrement could be washed off. Oil lingered in the cracks and crevices of their hands and arms, refusing to leave no matter how many times they took their bodies apart and cleaned them. Judging from Sunny's shriek, he must had spilled it on his chestplate again. Sure enough, Hoist's engine leavings and oil were seeping into the spots in his armor that were not oil-proof. Primus, the SMELL.

"Hold still! I'll try to get it off of you!" Sideswipe attempted to mop up the petroleum product, but it was greasy and had already started staining Sunny's interior.

"You're only spreading it!" Sunny cried, running for the chemical shower on the other side of the room. Sideswipe followed and attempted to clean it off in there. Sunstreaker continued bellowing, and Sideswipe yelled back. The chestplate had to be vigorously scrubbed in circles to get rid of the oil better, something hard to do when the victim was fighting with all of his might. Sunny shoved his brother away only to get thrown against the shower wall, suds flying as the chemical streamed down his body. Siders attacked his brother again, holding one of his arms down and working harder at the area around his waist that needed more attention. They looked up to see they had an audience.

"Where's a camera when you need it?" Blaster leered. A skate-free Tracks snickered beside him. Skids and Hoist, who had not wanted to miss the fun, even in mid-oil change, were next to them, staring.

Sideswipe jumped away from his brother. "You are all _sick_."

"Don't stop on our account!" Tracks prodded, still trying not to grin too wide. "Go on, Siders. Rub his chestplate a little harder."

Sunstreaker made a move to kill Tracks. "Don't call him that!"

Blaster got in between them, grinning even harder. "Wow, this is nice." He got whacked by both of them for his trouble. "OW!"

Sideswipe stomped out of the shower, ignoring the dripping chemicals around him, demanding Skids to get back to his spot so that they could finish.

"What did you do to get you here?" Hoist asked. The Lamborghini brothers had done this so often that one year they were awarded with a gold-colored oil pan For Excellent Services Rendered.

"Glued Perceptor to the ceiling," Sunstreaker replied. He didn't want culpability to be remotely directed towards Sideswipe. "I thought it would be fun to see him upside down."

Blaster muttered something to Tracks about this being why he dated normal mechs. Sunstreaker told them to beat it or they would find out what it was like to be covered in someone else's used oil. When they left, taking Hoist with them, Skids demanded to know what else they had done.

"You are the smartest mech in this army," Sideswipe proclaimed. Only Skids knew that they would never content themselves with merely sticking the microscope onto an elevated surface. "We had a little fun with his new security program."

* * *

No matter what Perceptor tried to do, the same message danced across his screen. 

ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US.

"I'm impressed," Prime murmured.

"That they hacked into Perceptor's computer?" Red Alert asked. He shouldn't be: Perceptor could sleep through Decepticon attacks.

"No. That they know such an obscure reference."

Perceptor kicked Teletraan in frustration. Months of work, gone! And those mechs were the cause of this! "We will have to adjourn this meeting until the program has a better security system."

Prime nodded. "You have until tomorrow morning."

Prowl and Jazz marched/meandered out while Perceptor typed code into the computer, to no avail. Whatever they'd done, they'd done it well.

"Try not to allow it to upset you," Optimus murmured huskily over the scientist's shoulder after a few moments, causing him to jump.

"I will not," Perceptor replied, wondering why he felt more than a little flustered over his leader's kind words, words he would offer anyone. "Thank you."

He was already gone.

* * *

Whatever he had said to them, it worked, especially after what happened last night. One Decepticon tossed out in favor of two others! Megatron playing favorites was one thing, but this new turn of events made the triple-changers' earlier discarded words seem eerily prophetic. The next day Astrotrain walked down a hallway where a crowd of angry Seekers buzzed, resenting Megatron's newest mandate that anyone caught so much as snuggling with another Decepticon other than him would be shot immediately. This was uncalled for: all Seekers cuddled as an energon-sharing conservation tactic when power was low. 

"Why _can't_ we be with who we want?" demanded Thundercracker. "Why does it have to be _him_?"

Astrotrain took up the momentum again. "What would he do if he didn't have us whenever he wanted?"

"YEAH!" everyone chimed in.

"I say we boycott!" cried Dirge.

"Boycott what?" demanded Motormaster, sneaking up on them again. No one said a word, glaring disdainfully. The truck smiled knowingly. "We could do that. I'm all for letting him hang."

"Uh huh. Not with _us_ you won't." Skywarp nudged him away. Thundercracker brought him back.

"We need someone to take the fall, idiot."

"Hey!" Motormaster protested. "NOBODY should take the fall if you do it right. If no Decepticon stands out he can't blame one of us." He scowled at his confused counterparts. "If one of us doesn't offer to negotiate alone, then he can't punish the leader. That kind of thing."

Astrotrain had thought of that a long time ago. No leader, no scapegoat. Still, it might be wise to make this truck think he was clever. "Not a bad idea!"

"Right."

Thundercracker glanced around, to see where the spies were. "If you're in, prove it."

There's an old Decepticon game where a soldier asks another how loyal he is to signify that he wants a gift of energon. Modern Decepticon loyalty measures were no less tangible. Motormaster produced a full cube and placed it in the middle of the circle with the others' collection.

"Who's holding it?" the Stunticon demanded.

"Nobody," Dirge countered, pocketing his half a cube as the others did likewise. "But if yours is lower than the last time we saw it, you're _scrap_."

That was the weirdest thing he'd ever heard. It meant two things: 1) anybody could turn on anyone else at any moment, and 2) he had no idea who was truly on his side and that he needed backup. That meant he had no choice. "You know, the other Stunticons might want to get in on this."

"Talk to one of us," Skywarp replied, speaking up at last.

"_Any_ one of you?"

"Affirmative." They broke up quickly as Blitzwing walked by with a Constructicon. Although his discussion with Mixmaster never let up, his optic sparkled a secret signal to Astrotrain that no one caught.

* * *

It took two hours of thorough cleaning, but the twins finally felt presentable to the outside world. A pity, since they might have had a quicker meeting with a livid Ironhide if they reeked of twenty two changed oil pans. He yelled at them for a half an hour, finally announcing that they would have a much more severe punishment if they ever came across evidence that the two had done it. Instead he screamed and released the miscreants. 

"Are you ready?" Sideswipe asked. Sunstreaker scowled.

"Yeah," he replied unconvincingly. Sideswipe patted him on the back as they entered the commissary.

Jazz sat at a table, coolly sipping the contents of his mug and trying not to grin as the boys got their energon and approached his empty table, which was in clear view of the disgustingly cute Blaster and Tracks.

"Hi Jazz," they chimed in unison, and although there had been a huge fist fight over this, _Sideswipe_ leaned over and kissed Jazz on the cheek first. Sunstreaker leaned over and kissed the other one, sitting down and downing his energon. Jazz let Sideswipe put his arm around him, and Sunstreaker grabbed the hand resting on the table. Neither twin flinched.

Prowl did. His was the smallest reaction; the rest were shocked, attacking the table all at once.

"Did you see that!"

"What the SLAG!"

"I thought you said you didn't do that!"

"What did you do to get 'em, Jazz?"

"Man, if Jazz has improved that much on the plate since _I_ had him I'll kiss Starscream at our next battle."

"You've kissed Starscream _enough_. And when did you get Jazz?"

"Screw that! Next time you get it on let me watch!"

"EWWW!" The Autobots hurried away from Gears as they surrounded the table to witness this oddity.

Blaster quietly finished his energon and abruptly rose from his spot, saying nothing to Tracks as he stalked out. Jazz hid a smirk.

"So who's the better kisser?"

"I am!" the twins shouted over Jazz's reply.

* * *

"Buzzsaw has uncovered an Autobot plot to aid the United Nations Peacekeeping Troops with a new weapons development." 

Several members of Megatron's army recoiled in shock. Starscream recovered first.

"Since when do Autobots take sides in _germ_ warfare?"

Megatron couldn't have put it better himself. Not that he would tell his ex-Air Commander that. The tape was vague: they discussed the unending battle against a serious threat to all, and how they had to take any means necessary to prevent its promulgation. The buzzard was beyond certain it was a weapons conference. Like the previous spy mission in which Laserbeak had been discovered, Buzzsaw was not able to uncover many details.

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Drag Strip asked. Thundercracker shook his head. The Stunticons would never learn proper protocol at this rate. "I thought all they wanted to do was stop us."

Megatron nodded. His Decepticons had eaten their Wheaties this morning. "As you so eloquently phrased it, the Autobots are jumping into the smelting pool that is human politics. _Normally_, we would allow them to engage in self-destructive tendencies such as upsetting futile leaders like the United Nations, but this particular endeavor puts us at a disadvantage. They are building a weapon." Even Dirge understood the ramifications of this: teaching the humans to better protect themselves against the Decepticons meant several things. It meant that taking power sources would be more difficult if their facilities were properly guarded. It put Optimus Prime in the unenviable position of being at the U.S. Government's beck and call. It allowed the humans to find ways to fight BOTH factions. Worst of all, it ticked off Megatron. There _was_ a silver lining to the cloud: the Autobots would infuriate other countries for playing favorites, allowing Megatron to acquire a few angry allies.

"We must quickly spread word of this misstep of Prime's. The moment the rest of the world hears of this, the worse the tension for all concerned." He split them up into groups with each tape bearing a copy of Buzzsaw's findings to various countries. "Negotiate extra energon as well!" he called, barely containing his glee. The Autobots would be sorry they stepped into the ring to try to topple _him_.

* * *

Wheeljack worked for two days to custom-fit every Autobot with roller-skates. He was pleased with the results. 

"Skates don't blow up," Ratchet reminded him as Bumblebee, arms waving in a fruitless attempt to catch himself, fell face-down. He crashed onto the hard cement basketball court they had turned into an impromptu skating rink.

"Medic!" he cried. Ratchet heaved a sigh and glided over to help him back up and check for dents.

"You've gotta LEAN onto the right skate and PUSH with the left," he suggested. His pupil huffed in frustration.

"I'm working on it!"

Spike sailed by with Carly, together pushing Chip. They were there to talk to Blaster about the arrangements for the charity and thought it would be fun to see how the practice was going.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe enjoyed figuring out this new way to move. It wasn't bad. Jazz lead the way for more adventurous tricks like skating backwards or squatting and quickly standing back up or spinning like an ice skater. Bluestreak had a little bit of trouble adjusting.

Optimus Prime had the most fun of all of them. The minute the skates were on his feet he stood up and achieved balance as though he'd been doing this all his life.

"Roll out!" he called, gliding across the basketball court gracefully. Half of his army fell on their faces/knees/backs in response. (Warpath was stuck on his barrel, vocalizer exploding with Cybertronian swear words not yet heard by Spike.)

Perceptor had the worst of it; Grapple had put up a temporary training bar for anyone who needed it, and the microscope _needed_ it. He could NOT get the hang of the mechanics, to his mortification. When he finally felt confident enough to wobble on his own the Twins held hands and allowed their arms to send him reeling onto his back.

"_Clothesline_!" they called.

"Get away from me!" he yelled back, seeing them coming and powerless to stop them, even as he scrambled to get back to the bar. WHAM! The impact had him on his skidplate, palms scratched from trying to ease the descent onto the pavement.

"MEDIC!" they howled gleefully. Perceptor crawled back to the bar and tried again, using the nearby swearing Warpath to aid him.

"You have TREADS! _Why_ are you skating?" Tracks couldn't help but query as he glared at Perceptor for not coming to the tank's aid.

"I wanted to BOOM! Try it out! WOWIE! It sure is hard!" He stood up straight, dusting himself. "Thanks!"

After he'd been helped up, Warpath grabbed a hold of Cosmos and refused to let go, to the Autobot's delight. Tracks smiled wryly, as he drifted off kilter, unaware of his leader encroaching from behind.

"He is having cerebral surgery tomorrow," Optimus announced in a low voice.

Tracks' grin fell to sarcastic levels. "That bad?"

"Worse. I have placed you and Blaster on the top of the list of those allowed leave for New York, with a permission to release you immediately once the family has contacted us."

Relief and gratitude flooded the Corvette as he stumbled over a fallen Bumblebee. "Thank you, Prime!" he called, watching his leader glide away.

* * *

Megatron's Decepticons came back sooner than expected, with bad news. 

"They tried to shoot me out of the sky," Thundercracker complained. "Iran, Israel, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq are out."

"So's Pakistan," grumbled Skywarp. "They wanted me to convert to Islam before we could talk. So I said I _was_. Then they heard what the U.S. was doing and decided they could use us in their army if we did whatever they said. I told 'em Megatron doesn't operate under ANYBODY. So they sent me out. So I told burned the place to the ground."

"Maybe you should go pray for forgiveness," Starscream sneered.

Megatron broke that up in time for more ill tidings.

"The African countries are in the middle of civil wars and mass genocides. Nobody would admit they were leading, let alone talk to us," the Constructicons reported, riddled with bullet nicks. Human firearms didn't hurt, but they scratched paint jobs.

"China and India declared that they had to discuss it before a committee, which means no. North Korea doesn't trust you after they heard what you did to Shawn Berger."

"I don't blame them. I don't trust you either."

"Spare me your editorials!" This was going from bad to worse. Surely SOME enemy of the rest of the world had sense in their brains!

"The Philippines are trying to establish better trade relations with the U.S. They told us to beat it." Half of the Combaticons were not happy with their chore.

"The Insecticons were a bad choice for Southeast Asia, _mighty Megatron._ No country has forgiven prior invasions, especially Bali."

Megatron sank onto his throne. He hated humans. He hated Starscream more. May be the Seeker should be stuck in a rocket to the sun with the humans and a camera. That would be an entertaining afternoon.

"We have acquired an ally," Soundwave intoned as he marched in with Vortex and Swindle. All three had armfuls of energon cubes.

Megatron sat up and took notice. "Report!"

"The Republic of Karbombia has recently been through yet another coupe d'etate," Vortex explained. "We discussed the matter with their newest Dictator, a loud-spoken fellow. He is interested in an alliance of convenience and presents us with these energon cubes as a gesture of goodwill."

"How many did you skim for yourself?" he demanded as Starscream opened his mouth. He closed it.

Swindle reluctantly pulled three more from subspace.

* * *

Autobot life was not all play. Optimus Prime had volunteered his clever scientists to aid the United Nations in a new farming method to end starvation. It had some weird acronym which meant 'war on world hunger' in one of the human languages that blurred together in Sideswipe's processor into Cybertronian no matter the dialect. 

Sideswipe was stuck on patrol with Powerglide, who lately had decided all of the female human attention he'd been getting over the years was a high appraisal and therefore made him in the same league as Sideswipe, which was laughable on a good day.

"So you ride those jets, huh?" he asked playfully as they traveled outside in the blazing sun looking for Decepticons. For some reason the U.N. was doing its research in an Air Force base in Arizona.

"Jet judo? Yeah."

"Do you like it?" If he asked Siders if he wanted to try to ride something else he'd fraggin' POUND him. They had been out for three days, Sideswipe had not gotten a decent recharge in forever, and the threesome with Jazz was not being taken seriously. Prowl had informed Jazz (in that disapproving tone he used when the Porsche was breaking protocol) that most of the Autobots assumed it was a stunt of some kind, or a challenge. Powerglide acted like he fell into the latter of the two groups.

"It was okay."

"OKAY? C'mon! Flyin's the greatest thing ever! I'll show you. Jump on my back!"

"NO." They had two more days. Sideswipe was going to KILL him.

"It'll be fun!"

"Fun is kicking Decepticon tail, not riding on you like-" he was so tired he couldn't think of anything insulting. Besides, Powerglide was more than eager to demonstrate how cool flying was, not how insulting Sideswipe could be.

"WHOOOO!" the glider called as he accomplished Blue Devil material in complicated loops, spins, barrel-rolls and other showy-offy things that interested Sideswipe about as much as Perceptor's scientific theses did. (Bad comparison.)

"It looks like fun," Sideswipe admitted, if only to get Powerglide to start talking about himself more, thus allowing the Lamborghini to tune him out.

"It's a blast! You should see me when I'm going against the wind…" He babbled for another hour and a half before it occurred to him that his audience was more of a figment of his imagination than his supposed heroics.

* * *

They furtively gathered right under Megatron's nose: the room next to his chamber, where Motormaster, to his rage, discovered that his last aborted liaison did not excuse him from his monthly duty. 

"When are we gonna strike?" he thundered. He could be heard by Megatron, no doubt.

"We need more time," Hook replied wearily.

"Yeah! He's in the middle of something."

"That's the best time to strike!"

"NO!" They all yelled back.

"It's the best time to set everything up, but not to _strike!_" Motormaster was dumber than an Autobot! "You remember what happened to Starscream after Nightbird?"

Motormaster glared at Rumble. "I wasn't here."

Frenzy stepped in, crossing his arms aggressively. "He soldered him to the floor and let us walk on him for a cycle."

Motormaster decided that it would be intelligent to arrive early for his 'meeting,' and that he'd see them later.

Blitzwing turned to his fellow Decepticons. "He's right, though. We have to wait for the right time. It shouldn't be too long from now."

"Yeah, but what happens if Megatron finds out and kills us? All he has to do is tell Shockwave to send another batch of warriors," Thundercracker objected.

Ramjet suggested they implant an override device into the communications board first, when Megatron was 'busy.'

"Busy how? Oh." Dirge didn't like that. "Which one of us distracts him?"

"I have him tomorrow night. What if I took TC with me, since he's into that?" Skywarp and Thundercracker didn't care about the three-way business _but_ when considering the catalyst to this cloak and dagger business, _anyone_ forced to get it on with a cassette deserved justice, even if the victim was Starscream. Megatron might get it into his database to force one of them to do it with an _Autobot_ next time, or worse, if this habitual indulgence perpetuated.

"Why don't we go now, while Megatron's with Motormaster?"

Why not?

"Okay, so we do that, then later Ramjet wrecks the commlink, then what? We all run away?"

"We could make a run for the spacebridge," Blitzwing began. "When we get to Cybertron, we could destroy it-"

"And leave him _here_ with the ground-pounders!" finished Skywarp gleefully.

"And _Starscream!_" cried Astrotrain, not believing how well this was working out.

"Should we take Soundwave?" asked Thrust. Silence.

"NAH!" they all cried after a moment.

"So then what? We show up and kill Shockwave, there will be such a rush for a new leader, there's no way Megatron would find someone to bring him back…this could work."

Thundercracker regarded him suspiciously. "How long have you been planning this?"

Since the day he was created. "Plan what? I'm a quick thinker."

Blitzwing led the group in another communal laugh. Astrotrain let them do it for awhile, vowing that things would change soon.

"There's still a few other things we need to figure out…"

* * *

Work work work work work!!!!! Sunstreaker leaned against the doorway as though his entire existence depended on it. This volunteer project was a waste of time. Humans liked to fight, and only compromised and worked together when there was something in it for them. Disgusting. Because of them his patrol shifts were twice as long as they should be. He was getting dust all over his beautiful body. 

"Hey, Sunstreaker," greeted a cheerful voice.

"Hi, Trailbreaker." He was glad to see his replacement.

"How is it out there?"

Sunny stopped to look at the blank scenery surrounding the truck. "Boring."

Trailbreaker had an easily humored smile. "Blaster called a rehearsal."

Since when did they need to rehearse roller-skating? The Autobots either could do it or they didn't.

"He was thinking about doing some tricks."

Whatever. Sunny had to 'report' to Jazz.

* * *

So far they were doing everything right. Rumble and Frenzy were distracting their master with their 'discovery' of proof of Starscream's latest attempt to usurp. Hook and Thundercracker were struggling with the heavy equipment the communications device utilized while the others did what they did best: criticized. 

"How are we going to do to get into the base's computer without the logs telling Megatron what we're doing?" growled Scrapper as the door slid open to reveal an unexpected arrival.

"Yeah," demanded Motormaster, who should have been shrieking like a little Autobot under their leader, not crossing his arms and scowling.

"Why aren't you with Megatron?" Blitzwing demanded, panicking.

The Stunticon shrugged. "Dunno. He finished early."

"But this means he's somewhere else besides his room!" Bonecrusher exclaimed.

Longhaul finished the thought. "He could be spying on us!"

"Scatter!" called Hook.

And they did.

* * *

Megatron did not know what was going on outside of his chambers. All he was aware of was how he couldn't get back into any of his Decepticon's processors. 

It had been a nagging issue for a long time, making itself a clear threat this morning when Starscream had taunted him over it. They had been fighting for domination on the floor, Starscream proving, as stated after their encounter with Frenzy, that his technique for fighting was just as horrendous as his other proficiencies.

"You wouldn't know how to interface with a three-pronged plug!" Megatron roared, shoving the Seeker off of him.

"Why don't you break into my processor and _show me what I'm doing wrong,_ LEADER?"

He couldn't do it. Starscream faced him, meters away and smirking, but Megatron had no ability to enter his mind.

"I'm waiting," he sang, deliberately goading him.

"You're trying my patience again!"

"_But I didn't say anything, mighty Megatron."_

Megatron gasped. He hadn't realized that Starscream was talking to him INSIDE of _his_ processor.

"Get out," he snarled, fingers curling around the dark gray throat. "Never do that again." Starscream dashed out, fearing any more interference.

This was a problem. Megatron could not figure out HOW this mech had gotten into him, and seemed to be gaining access as time marched forward. He should have scrapped him when he had the chance, but on the other hand, if he found a way to tap into mechs the same way as his former Air Commander, he could use it to tap into Prime and complete the Autobots' annihilation, but he'd better do it quick, before Starscream sensed this plan and executed it first.

His underlings were yelling loud enough to awaken Vector Sigma, but none of it registered.

* * *

After about an hour it was apparent to Astrotrain that Megatron was not coming out anytime soon. He grilled Motormaster about what had happened, to no avail, because there was 'no way on Cybertron' he could recall _everything_ that happened in their leader's quarters. 

"We must postpone our plans until a better time!" he hissed.

"What! I don't want to do what he wants to do anymore!" Dirge protested furiously.

"You want him to find out what _we're_ doing instead?" Longhaul demanded. The Constructicons were the only mechs who grasped the jeopardy of their situation. "If we need another week, we need another week!"

Starscream, the newest messenger-mech since his demotion, chose that moment to stomp in. "We have a new plan! Prepare for a briefing in 20 astro-minutes!" He shrewdly glanced at the huddled mass of Decepticons. "What are you all standing around for?"

"Frenzy told us about your lousy technique," Skywarp jeered, taking a blind shot in the dark. To his relief, it worked. Starscream slammed the common room door behind him.

* * *

"HEY!" 

Sideswipe stopped daydreaming before he – well – _sideswiped_ a truck. He realigned himself and swerved out of the way, transforming quickly to give a very human gesture.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Powerglide demanded. "I've been yelling at you for_ever_!"

"Uh-huh," Sideswipe muttered, still not listening. The last thought in his processor echoed like a scream in Mammoth Cave.

Powerglide landed gracelessly and began to tap his cohort's shoulder. "Primus! DEFRAG!!"

"I'm _okay_! GET OFF OF ME!" Sideswipe cried, yanking himself out of the reverie that had almost killed him. Powerglide backed away, palms up to placate his coworker.

"Cool your jets, Siders! Hehe. _Cool your jets_. Get it?"

"Hey, Launchpad McQuack. Call me Siders again and I'll rearrange you into an origami swan." He showed that he meant it by making a fist and stomping over, eddies of sand swirling around his feet.

Powerglide dodged a few punches and quickly took off before Sideswipe could do any major damage. Ribbing him was so much fun. "You've gotta catch me first!" he called jubilantly.

Sideswipe forgot his earlier promise and ably landed on top of the glider, clenching him tightly in his arms. "I caught ya!"

Powerglide tried not to crow. "Hold on! Those D's ain't got slag on MY flyin'!"

He wasn't bad. Better than Dirge, but not as good as Skywarp. Sideswipe had a good ride until Prowl radioed them to come in for a recharge.

* * *

Dictator-for-life of Karbombia, former general, and all-in-all pain in the tailpipe Abdul Fakkadi strode into the Decepticon/government mutual meeting place on a small island off the coast of Madagascar and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of Megatron. 

"I thought you would be taller," he snorted disdainfully.

Megatron mentally noted in his head to kill this one slowly when he was finished with him. "President Fakkadi, as you are aware –"

"Infidel!" cried one of his soldiers. "In our country we do not so rudely _plunge_ into business without exchanging honorable pleasantries!"

Soundwave hovered over the minor player with his tapes surrounding him and gave a vile stare. "Cybertron does not."

Uneasy, Fakkadi's minions apprehensively glanced at their leader, who nodded curtly. "This is acceptable under the circumstances."

Megatron turned to Starscream, who was not bothering to stifle his laughter. Still snickering, the jet pressed a few buttons to show Buzzsaw's shots of the super-secret structure out in Tucson, Arizona. "As you are aware -" he began, glaring at the inferior officer, daring him to interrupt. "-the leading world organizations have joined together to concoct a new weapon. We will procure it."

* * *

"What we're trying to do is to get you to dribble the ball, pass and shoot." 

"ME GRIMLOCK ALREADY KNOW THAT!"

Tracks exchanged glances with Blaster. Practice had just started.

"Yes, but can you do it while _skating_?" Tracks threw the ball at Swoop, who slipped, skidded, and fell onto the floor. "_Exactly_. I want you all to take a couple of laps around the parking lot just holding the ball."

After only one lap Sunstreaker was dribbling. After two laps he was passing the ball between his legs as he rolled. After three laps Tracks had to pull Perceptor out of Sunstreaker's way to avoid the scientist getting yet another basketball bounced off of his head.

"I know how to skate and I know how to play. Can I go now?"

Grimlock was trying to spin the ball on his finger and failing. Bluestreak constantly double-dribbled. Warpath rolled on his treads, happy that he hadn't been disqualified. Gears yelled that he wasn't playing and that he quit. Blaster decided that they were ready for scrimmage.

"Dinobots and whiners versus everybody else!" he called. Perceptor and Gears moaned.

Snarl had the ball. He faked left with too much momentum and managed to regain his balance by losing the ball to Skids, who passed to Perceptor by accident. Perceptor fell on his back. Bluestreak recovered the ball but couldn't do anything but travel with it. Blaster debated blowing the whistle and decided to do it. Sludge shot it from half-court, missing by about six feet. Bounce bounce bounce bounce roll. Red Alert complained that they spent more time going after the ball than playing. Blaster threatened to put him on the other team. Sunstreaker had it, dribbled left, passed to Skids, rolled around Gears easily, and caught it in time to slam dunk it.

"Awww yeah!" Blaster called jubilantly. "Put him on first string," he told Tracks, who was holding a datapad and noting ability.

"So far we have Sunstreaker on first string…and everybody else is a cheerleader."

Blaster snorted as half of team DinoWhiner ended up in a tangle after a disastrous tipoff. "They'd make a good pyramid."

Trailbreaker had the ball but it kept bouncing off his feet. Bumblebee timidly dribbled with his left hand and inched down the court with a great deal of caution, ignoring the obviously open Bluestreak. Sunstreaker was blocked by Slag and Snarl. Somehow he caught Bumblebee's wild toss but even _he_ knew the Dinobots might conveniently forget which game they were playing. He was tackled the last time he played tennis with them.

"Blue! Help me out! I can't take both of 'em at the same time! Blue! BLUE!" What was he _doing_?

Bluestreak had fallen because he WAS tackled by Grimlock. Frustrated, he lifted his head and yelled back, "I thought you LIKED two on you!"

"What?" he asked as Slag yanked the ball out of his hands and did another wild three-pointer. He might have made the shot if Prowl's windshield were the basket.

Laughter died quickly. Prowl, arms crossed and optics blazing, calmly asked why Skids and Trailbreaker were not on patrol, and why Perceptor's five minute break had lasted an hour and a half, and from whom had they received permission to clear an entire Air Force base parking lot? Where were the cars?

Blaster chuckled nervously. "We needed a practice, so I Shanghaied a few mechs and Tracks had the Dinobots-"

"-move the cars." Prowl gestured to the smoldering pile of sedans and SUVs. "You have just cost us a great deal of goodwill from our hosts and over a million dollars' worth of damage."

"I'm sure Triple A doesn't have a 'Dinobot' clause," Tracks replied flippantly.

Prowl's calm face twisted. "Get in_side_," he snarled, pointing to the airplane hanger that functioned as their impromptu headquarters. "The rest of you - at least those of you who are NOT breaking regulation - return to the Ark."

Autobots transformed and drove away, scattering like leaves.

"Blue!" Sunstreaker hurried to catch up to the Datsun. "What did you mean by that?"

Bluestreak huffed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He doubted it. But he wasn't one to talk about feelings, so he took Blue's word.

The sniper remained relatively silent for the rest of the ride, not saying anything but a good-bye before he drove into med bay.

* * *

"C'mere!" Sideswipe had just staggered in from another exhausting haul with Powerglide the same time that Sunstreaker had FINALLY escaped the second skating practice from hell to be grabbed – just as they were about to meet each other midway down the corridor – and yanked into a VERY small closet. 

"What the SLAG?" growled Sunny, squirming under the surprisingly strong grasp of a cheerful black hand.

Sideswipe couldn't move. Dismayed, he wiggled and grunted. Jazz laughed delightedly.

"Keep it up!" he whispered delightedly, wedging himself in between them as they tried to wrench themselves free from his grip and escape. "Oh baby!" he cried, a little louder than necessary.

"Jazz! Your diodes are scrambled!" Sunny did not like being this close to his brother when he was this dusty. His paint could be scratched. Jazz somehow stood on tiptoe and pressed his face against Sunstreaker.

"Just kiss me."

"Sunny! Get your hand off my skidplate!" Sideswipe shrieked, twisting but having nowhere to go.

"That's not my hand!"

"Is that your leg? Get it off!"

"Yeah, get me off!" Jazz called over the golden mech's retort. His visor glinted deliciously as the other two grunted to get in a position where they could mutually throttle the Porsche but not have to touch the other in an uncomfortable place. Jazz was able to hook his leg around Sunny and grab Sideswipe's arm to fondle his chestplate, humming in contentment.

"You naughty boys! Oh! Yeah! OH!"

BOOM!

Prowl had stopped mid-stride in the hallway to investigate the small clump of Autobots trying to extend their listening devices against the closet door to better hear the commotion going on inside. As soon as he heard Sunstreaker swear and Sideswipe announce that Jazz was 'gonna get it' he overrode the locking code and wrenched the door open to calmly watch a pell-mell conglomeration of red, yellow, black and white tumble to the ground. The others broke into applause and started making their own noises of passion.

"Give it to me, Sunny!" groaned Windcharger, throwing himself against the wall in histrionics.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" screeched a hyper Bumblebee, laughing so hard he had to lean on the hooting Gears.

The twins tried to disengage themselves from the tangle Jazz had somehow wound them into but there were too many gawkers in the way. The mech who had started it all was a little taken aback: his trick had attracted the wrong mech's attention.

Jazz smiled sheepishly. "Hi Prowl."

Prowl did not smile back. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, you are denied leave for twenty-four hours. Go recharge." He pointed with his left hand to the end of the corridor. "Jazz: my office. Five minutes. The rest of you-" The rest of them were gone; spreading the word, no doubt. Prowl averted his gaze from the threesome on the ground untangling themselves by left-facing and marching down the hall to meet Jazz at his office.

* * *

The most important cog in their revolution was not interested. The Combaticons, the only ones not afraid of Megatron OR Starscream, the ones who _should_ be the most eager to revolt, were unconcerned. Nothing anyone said made any difference. Astrotrain huffed air out of his intakes, frustrated. They were stalled in the air, what with the Constructicons getting their desired time off and Megatron wrapped up in his alliance with a _human_ (another mark against him, but still the Combaticons did not waver) and the Seekers and Motormaster losing what little patience they had. If they did not have the full cooperation of every Dececpticon, they might leave enough behind to enable Meagtron's vengence. This was getting tougher to keep together as time progressed. He needed a backup plan.

* * *

Jazz slunk into their room with that same guilty grin he'd used earlier. It had the same effect.

"What the FRAG were you processing?" Sunstreaker demanded.

"Shh," Sideswipe retorted. "You are so slow sometimes. He did it to get attention." Even when half daydreaming while watching porn, Sideswipe was smarter than his brother. "What did Prowl say?"

Jazz looked slightly upset about this. "He said something weird. He told me he was disappointed that I didn't respect my station enough to keep you guys out of trouble, and how we were all working hard and I was just playing with you, and that he had expected better from me-"

"Wow. I usually tune him out when he starts talking. So that's what he says to us." Sideswipe swung his legs over the edge of the recharge plate to stand up. He was ready to get some energon, since they couldn't go out.

"He doesn't say that to you. I've heard him. He yells at you long enough to prove to Prime that he yells at you. Prowl ain't dumb. He knows you'll do whatever you want and as long as you're not hurting anyone your punishment'll fit the crime and he'll yell." The visor darkened a little. "He _meant_ what he said to me."

"No he didn't. He says whatever will work. Like you said, he doesn't say anything he expects us to hear. He said what would bug you. Come on. Let's get something to drink."

* * *

Backup plans were unnecessary, even though there was no change in Astrotrain's directive, except that his spying on Starscream had been noticed. 

"Leave me alone!" Starscream shrieked, throwing Blo-Pops at the triple-changer by the handful. "Go play with Blitzwing!"

So now Astrotrain had to think of another way to surreptitiously gain information. He wandered into the main control room, after checking to make sure any one who would punish him wasn't there. It was only Rumble, monitoring Buzzsaw's latest spy mission.

"Jazz, I need to speak with you," Optimus Prime announced in the meeting room.

"Have they talked about the U.N. project?" Astrotrain asked.

"Nah," Rumble replied, not to be helpful but because he was so bored he hoped a conversation would make things more interesting. Maybe it would lead to a fight. "They've been talking about that roller-skating show the whole time."

Astrotrain decided not to ask.

"Blaster and Tracks might leave before we are able to accomplish our mission, leaving a void in our programming. They have requested another Autobot render aid. I thought-"

"-I'd be a good fit? Nah, Prime, Blaster's got it going on. I'd be an anchor." Jazz smiled sweetly. "Besides, I thought you needed me to run the behind-the-scenes for that U.N. gig?"

"Affirmative," Prime replied uneasily. He had hoped to get Jazz in there to control Blaster and Tracks' rampant over-planning. Besides the actual game Blaster wanted them to do tricks, have a race, an "Auto-graph" session, a private after-party, programs, T-shirts, a soundtrack by En Vogue, celebrity photograph sessions, a documentary filmed at the same time, and an encore session the next night to repeat what they'd done Saturday. They were over-budget and had accomplished nothing so far and the deadline was fast approaching. They needed a leader.

"I'm sorry Prime, but my plate's full," he gave a bawdy look for the double entendre, which startled his leader enough to allow him a graceful conversational escape. "Maybe Prowl would like to give 'em a hand."

Prowl would rather boot the whole project, and said as much. Ironhide wasn't doing anything this week. Ironhide tartly replied that he'd rather be shot in the face by Starscream's null ray than spend a week hollering at Blaster, who would promptly turn around and do whatever he pleased. Why did they need a pinch planner, anyway? Prime wouldn't tell.

No one volunteered. Heaving a sigh, Optimus declared that he didn't want to, but must: he ordered Jazz to help Blaster with the planning. The saboteur graciously agreed and the meeting broke up. Rumble radioed Soundwave.

"Two weeks from Saturday the Autobots will be busy," he reported eagerly. "They're leavin' the Arizona base unguarded."

"Perfect!" exclaimed a delighted Megatron, who had come into the control room during this exchange. "Notify that Karbombian _worm_ and assemble the other Decepticons." He noticed Astrotrain at that moment. "Report your purpose."

He bowed and thought fast. "I wanted to ask your permission-" he lowered his voice and dropped his head humbly. "-Rumble has requested I take his place tonight at your side. May I?"

Megatron considered this. He wasn't in the mood for anything at all, but Astrotrain was more discreet about these issues. "Affirmative. Dismissed." Rumble hid a dismayed expression, wondering what favor he'd have to perform later to make up for this. He hoped it wouldn't be anything distasteful.

* * *

Sideswipe snickered to himself over some nasty thought that raced past his processor and tickled his sense of amusement. 

Jazz looked up from selecting from their latest acquisitions: "Cheerleader Sluts doing Power Rangers" or "Robin Hooker: Princess of Tease." He tossed them aside.

"You know what, man? This is stupid. Let's have a party."

"It's not stupid!" Sideswipe rolled to face the other side while Sunstreaker grunted.

"If you want to," the golden warrior growled, which was Sunnyspeak for 'pitt, yeah!' He was more of a host than Sideswipe, who liked to go out and get his action. Jazz radioed everyone in the Ark and set up the room, with Sunny's help. Sideswipe didn't feel like it. When the guests started coming in he made some lame excuse and disappeared, ostensibly to find another screwdriver.

"He's dragging me down," Jazz complained to the always welcome Wheeljack.

"Leave 'em alone. He's fine. In fact, leave ME alone. I need another drink!" Wheeljack was over-energized and getting worse. Sunstreaker was joking around with Trailbreaker. Blaster chose that moment to come up to Jazz.

"I hear you're in charge of me and Tracks."

Jazz held his drink up in a friendly salute. "You won't even know I'm there."

"Good." His optics scanned the room for a moment until they rested on Tracks, who was looking worse for wear. "Just keep your headlights out of my optics and we'll be smooth."

"Yeah," Jazz responded, turning away. He was _not_ looking forward to this.

* * *

Prowl received a phone call at three in the morning. The surgery had been a success and the hemorrhaging had stopped. The patient was still unconscious. Prowl politely thanked Raul's wife and relayed the message at the Twins'. Tracks let out a whoop and invited Prime's second-in-command down for a drink, which was refused. 

"I would like to speak to Jazz, if it's possible."

There was a pause as they searched around the room, calling for him. "Jazz? Jazz? Jazz? Nope, sorry Prowl. He's gone. So's our hosts, if you get my meaning."

"Prowl out," he snapped.

Tracks turned back to the joyous room. "He's gonna be okay!" he cried.

"This calls for a toast!" suggested Trailbreaker. "To Raul!"

"To the death of Laserbeak!" the Corvette countered. Everyone roared in appreciation before partaking.

* * *

Several wings. Tens of floors. Hundreds of corridors. Thousands of rooms. Which one was Megatron's _this_ week? 

Astrotrain wandered the area with worry increasing at each wrong turn. Megatron moved his recharge station at random intervals to keep both his allies and enemies from detecting his resting place, but it was difficult for the average Decepticon to perform his duty when he had to solve the clues first. Was it left right Wing A floor B? Or left right left right Wing A to Wing B to Floor A to Floor B? There WAS a difference.

"You are LATE!" Megatron greeted him when, finally, Astrotrain entered.

"I am sorry, mighty one," he groveled, on his knees and hating every minute of it. "You are so clever that I could not find you."

Megatron laughed until he could not make his victim any more uncomfortable. "You are lying." He was standing and sweeping the triple-changer into his arms, staring into his optics with every intent to terrify. "I know what you've been planning."

"What I've been planning? Whatever do you mean?" The plan was OVER and he was SCRAP if he didn't mislead this mech and FAST. Megatron tossed him aside.

"Rumble already _told_ me. Do you really believe that by taking more turns with me that I will promote you to Air Commander?"

"That pipsqueak!" he cried involuntarily. He'd been unnecessarily frightened because of that tape.

Megatron's optics glowed. So it was true. Well, then he would make Astrotrain _earn_ his position. "Come here." A sound beating would make a good start. Then the fun could begin. "Hold still," he commanded, fist impacting the Decepticon before he could brace himself.

"Thank you, Megatron," he groaned. He had expected this, and knew what to say. "It is an honor. May I have another?"

"As many as you desire," he cackled, just getting warmed up. Maybe he _was_ in the mood tonight.

* * *

While their leader was otherwise engaged, Rumble had Soundwave distracted by repairing minor damage to Ravage incurred due to a small scuffle between him and the other tapes. As they did that, Hook and Thundercracker disappeared and went back to modifying the communications device as Blitzwing paced the outside of the lab, waiting for Starscream to come out. 

"Do you think he's using us?" Thundercracker asked in a low voice.

Hook took a minute to switch tools before he answered. "Who? I thought _I_ was the one motivating this operation."

And Thundercracker felt like _he_ was, but for some reason his processor nagged at him that this felt more like a triple-changer scheme than anything else, but Thundercracker had yet to prove it. Sure, Astrotrain had said some things in the beginning, and Blitzwing had been muttering some slag about how Megatron may have no known weaknesses but he sure had a lot of character flaws, but it seemed that every time they had a meeting Thundercracker did all the talking. Now he heard Hook stating the exact opposite. Blitzwing had said _nothing_ to them out of the ordinary, and Astrotrain had not asked any questions Hook hadn't already mused-in private, however-thus there was no real feeling of being lead. The mere suggestion had been implanted somehow, whether or not they had all considered it. They were also dragging their feet too much and running out of time. They needed to band together _quickly_, or this would blow up in everybody's face.

* * *

Prowl slowly sipped his energon and waited. He didn't think it would be that long before Tracks showed up, no doubt with Blaster in tow, and more than likely the two would be so upset over Jazz's 'interference' that they'd not listen to him until they wanted to. Jazz had lingered in the commissary for an extra twenty minutes before finally sitting down with Prowl to inform the Datsun that he would not be able to aid Blaster and Tracks in their charity plans because there were too many personal and professional clashes. 

"You suggested a few ideas in your usual diplomatic way and Blaster took it as an insult."

Jazz laughed. "You could always see the forest." This earth saying had been used before. "Even where there are too many trees."

The scenario was easy to piece together: Jazz kept his promise to both Prime and the tape player and stayed out of the way during the brain-storming session of what they would do with whatever they hadn't already bought but when he spelled out to Blaster that celebrity appearances were out of the question, not to mention the budget, his committee reacted noisily. They KNEW that Jazz had connections and could EASILY assemble a few well-known humans. Jazz said although that was true, Prime was concerned that there wasn't enough concentration on the main focus of the Autobot mission. It was the U.N. project, not whether or not Jazz could convince Brad Pitt and Madonna to drop everything and come watch them roller skate. They were annoyed with him and his suggestions that there had to be a LOT more cutbacks if they were make their one-week deadline. Had they notified the press? The makers of Rollerblade? Advertised? Sold any tickets? Gotten a hold of the people who OWNED the building they wanted to rent? The answers were all negative. Jazz then had to decide whether to embarrass the one who dumped him by either doing nothing or doing a LOT. He chose the latter. He called the _Phoenix__Sun Times_ and the local radio stations after he'd talked to the arena owners and convinced them to rent the almost-complete America West Stadium, but at a much higher rate than planned, thanks to last-minute convincing to open the rink before it was ready (since they didn't NEED the private suites, lower bowl or the locker rooms furnished). Once that miracle had been performed and the proper Public Relations were notified, Ticketmaster agreed to handle the box office portion (again, at a higher rate than expected thanks to this being the last-minute). He decided that the hard part was done and sat back to let Blaster and Tracks coordinate activities. Tracks coolly informed Jazz that his services were no longer needed. Since they had been the ones who'd asked Prime to find them help, they had no qualms dismissing the assistance they no longer needed. Jazz wished them luck and glided out the door before running to the lab and unloading his frustrations on Wheeljack. The Lancia calmed him down and reminded him to report to Prowl before Blaster beat him to it.

Prowl wanted to reinstate Jazz to the project and was asked to consider the repercussions. More than likely, now that the human-oriented portion was finished, Blaster and Tracks would complete their work in a safe, timely manner, but they would not be pleasant unless another means of regulation were used; however, Jazz assured Prowl that he didn't care, and that he was glad to help in any way he could. Prowl informed him that he would manage the two henceforth and for Jazz not to tax himself over it. The saboteur, delighted, offered to take over Prowl's discipline schedule, which would have segued into his behavior as of late with two certain individuals if Blaster and Tracks hadn't walked in and at the sight of Jazz crossed their arms impatiently. Prowl recommended the tete a tete reconvene later.

"What's he been telling you?" Tracks demanded, once he'd been invited to sit down.

"He informed me that you relieved him of his charge to render supervision," Prowl replied evenly. "You do not have that particular authority. _I_ have, and I _did_, at his request. From this period forward you have a new administrator."

Tracks nodded. "He did not give any ideas and then he told us we were doing every thing wrong."

Obviously the two did not know how laborious the task they had planned would be, and were relieved to have a scapegoat. "Are you annoyed that he did not volunteer ideas or that he did? Your complaint is contradictory."

Tracks glanced at Blaster, who supplied the explanation that Jazz didn't have any GOOD ideas.

"What were his ideas?" He listened patiently as the two vocally overlapped each other in their need to complain. "These were the very issues Prime and I ordered him to address as your team leader. Had another been there to oversee, he would have made the very same suggestions. You also stated more than once that you are upset that in two hours he was able to accomplish what you could not in two months."

"Ah-"

He held up his hand. "I do not want to hear excuses as to why this upset you," he interrupted. "Organizing this benefit was something that you had promised Prime necessitated no official interference but as far as I have seen has done nothing _but_ interfere, from distracting Autobots with practices to your petition for more money to the complete lack of a feasible schedule. My first impulse was to cancel the entire ordeal, but my forbearer dissuaded me. Show me your plans and we will have a timeline before the end of the day."

Blaster began to regret getting rid of Jazz so quickly. By sundown he REALLY regretted it. Prowl decimated their project and micromanaged their plans down to the last tenth of an astro-second. For the next week, Blaster and Tracks knew where they would be and what they would be doing at ANY time of day.

"I have another issue to address," Prowl began, tired and annoyed that he had to oversee this project when he had opposed it from the beginning. "We received word from Raul's family that he is going in for surgery again next week due to another complication . It is for reconstruction of one of his lungs, which is on the verge of collapsing."

"Oh Primus," Tracks moaned, dropping his datapad.

"I have been notified that his chances of survival are not high."

Blaster glared. "Man, they were right about you!"

Prowl ignored him. "You are still first to be granted leave should your presences be required." He stood up and walked away from the grieving Tracks and the consoling Blaster and sighed to himself.

* * *

"Limp limp limp! Who beat _you_ up?" 

Mixmaster was funny. SOOOOOO funny. Astrotrain decided not to address that particular matter. "Did they do it?"

"Yyyyyeah! We'll be ready in no time!"

Astrotrain exhaled in relief. So they were getting somewhere. Too bad he wasn't. Their leader had pounded him into a new alternate mode, cackling the whole time. This HAD to work. He couldn't stand another moment of intimate subservience.

* * *

Jazz had promised that 'things'll get interesting' as their time in a three-way relationship progressed. If you counted Blustreak's hurt feelings that had to be soothed, Powerglide's new obsession with Sideswipe, and Gears asking if he could watch, then YEAH, but neither twin was willing to label these as 'interesting.' 

Ratchet patched Sideswipe up after one unsuccessful Ravage hunt ended when they'd run into Menasor. "So are you having fun being Jazz's toy?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "It's okay."

The medic's optics sparkled a little. "I didn't know you liked it a little weird, or I would've invited you to hang out with me a _long_ time ago."

He must not have his audios turned on the whole way. "What?"

Ratchet's sparkle died the minute he realized what he'd said. "Nothing. Get off my table, will you? I have other patients, like one of your rejects who scratched his paint."

Perceptor crept over to the table once he was sure Sideswipe wasn't within striking distance and bore Ratchet's teasing as best he could, which was difficult when one's entire plating had been wiped out in some places and Ratchet wasn't too gentle with him.

"I TOLD you to change that lock code. Lean on Red Alert a little harder." He chuckled at Red Alert's refusal to help. "You had it coming."

Perceptor doubted that anyone quietly working to intensify the potency of Prowl's acid pellet gun –as ordered- who accidentally fell asleep 'had it coming.' He awoke in agony. The twins were still persecuting him. Would it ever end?

* * *

"No." 

"Come on!"

Still Thundercracker refused to believe the truth: that this whole uprising had been Frenzy's idea. He wanted credit for his brilliance.

"Pipsqueak, you couldn't lead ant-droids to a picnic! It was MY idea!"

Skywarp raised his head from the huddle, disappeared, and returned through the door with an indignant Ravage. He made growling noises to indicate that he would tell Soundwave EVERYTHING in a moment's notice, if the tape player hadn't overheard it already.

"What'll we do with him?" Frenzy asked in a panicked voice. Frenzy and Rumble had figured out a way to block Soundwave from their most intimate thoughts, but Ravage communicated ONLY through telepathy.

"You're the leader. Figure it out," Thundercracker sneered.

Ravage let some more growls and hisses. Frenzy's visor widened.

"He says he'll keep it quiet if he can spend the night with Skywarp." Five heads swiveled up to their incredulous target, who told them that he'd do it when Autobots flew out of his exhaust pipes. "He just wants to cuddle!"

"Oh Primus." Skywarp had been reluctant to follow through on this scrapwish as it was, doing it only for Thundercracker, but THIS…this was ridiculous. They wanted him to _cuddle_ with a _kitty_.

"You can have my energon."

"It'll take more than that," Skywarp replied.

"It's only for one night."

"NO!"

Ravage wiggled hard enough to wrest himself from the grasp the jet had on him and took off. Skywarp saw Thundercracker stare in shock and he realized he didn't really want his friend to suffer. He warped in front of the cat and placed a weary hand on him.

"I thought you wanted to cuddle," he reminded him, scooping the cat up and carrying him off. Frenzy smiled in relief.

* * *

It was weird. How does one sleep with a cassette? Ravage circled the purple and black body four times before nestling in the crook of Skywarp's left arm, red optics glinting as his vocalizer throbbed. 

"Purrrrrrrrrr," Ravage announced.

"I ain't touching you," the Seeker snarled.

Ravage stood up and crawled around some more. He finally stood on the mech's chestplate, peering down at Skywarp in the dark, nose to nose. Skywarp knocked him into a laying position and the cat got back up and clamped his jaws around Skywarp's neck.

"Augh! Cat!"

"_I said 'PURRR'!"_

The jet sat up in the dark. "I thought you couldn't talk?"

"Rar?" he asked innocently. Skywarp settled back down, uneasy. This whole set-up made no sense. He was sure, somewhere, a crowd of Decepticons were watching him on a big screen and laughing hysterically.

Ravage gently nosed Skywarp's chin and purred louder. Skywarp reiterated his earlier announcement of vowing not to touch the spy. The cat replied by taking a great deal of throat into his mouth.

"Ow! You stupid cat!"

Ravage hid a grin. Fighting was almost as good as petting. He began to sheath and unsheathe his claws to snag them into the recharge plate's metal; first one set of claws scraping the part of the plate on Skywarp's left, leg lifting up in a curling of feline ecstasy, then the right. Repeat the dance, accelerating as the warm, petite pleasure of stretching the claw and leg cables played together like a glorious symphony. Oh, how he loved doing this! It made him clench his jaw a little tighter in joy, causing Skywarp to realize that sudden movements were a bad idea. Left leg. Right leg. Pull. Purr. He lifted his head a little in a rocking bliss as the dance continued over this strong, handsome mech. He used the back legs to help him pull harder. Oh yeah. Just like that. Purr. It was almost too much. A hand reached out to touch his head and Ravage felt every relay fire in pleasure.

Skywarp's electric field went cold as it was doused. This meant the cat was helpless to stop him from _throwing_ that beast across the room to hit the wall.

"You are one scrambled diode," he snarled. He couldn't complain. He wanted to, but no one would be sympathetic; one did not expect a tiny Decepticon to do such a thing. He'd been too shocked to think of any solution other than waiting for him to finish. "You said 'cuddle,' not 'assault'."

Ravage gave him a look that clearly stated that it didn't matter because he'd gotten what he wanted. He got on all fours and loped over to the plate and rested on the jet's knees, to prevent both kicking and shooting.

Skywarp felt USED. He was sick of it. Any time Thundercracker wanted to take over this revolt was fine with him.

* * *

At long last, the big night was here. Blaster held Tracks' hand as they almost danced in relief. Two more hours and they would no longer be under Prowl's tyrannical rule. 

"Have you read your scripts?" the Datsun asked Blaster.

"Yeah." Prowl needed to shut up.

"Tracks, why aren't you supervising the light crew?"

The Corvette glared. He was still upset he wouldn't be allowed to parade around with the others. "Because _Prime is talking! Shhh!"_

Prowl walked away. He was GLAD that this project was almost finished. Optimus had lead them in a moment of appreciation for Prowl, Blaster, and Tracks' hard work before he said what they wanted to hear.

"Autobots: turn off your radios. W_e're_ _busy tonight_."

"YEAH!" they cheered, all but Red Alert making a loud clicking noise. The Protectobots and Omega Supreme were on patrol and Prowl had a back-up roster if things went awry. Nothing would be too difficult for the initial force to handle.

Sunstreaker looked around the makeshift skating rink Blaster had spent so much of his off-time working on. The city of Phoenix wanted to build a better stadium for their basketball team, hoping that this would bring some interest in their area. There was no floor installed when the deal had been made, but somehow Blaster had found the arena construction company willing to lay down something. He had promised tickets, which cut into their profits. Tickets had sold fast. Even now, an hour early, the place was awash with humanity as people shrieked in excitement to see their favorites.

Blaster pretended not to see Jazz escorted in by both Lamborghinis. They had all been warned to keep their appendages to themselves while the humans observed; the more private party came later. Jazz wanted to make a statement by everyone seeing with whom he entered the room.

Right now they had a 'warm up' round, skating out to cue the crowd to sit. Autobots slid around, some still skating worse than others. Bluestreak assumed that this was a race instead of a great moment to show off his moves, thus he crashed with the grace of an inebriated NASCAR pilot. The mechs hurried around in a circle, except for Sunstreaker, who was gliding in the outermost perimeter to gain the most attention.

All for naught. "PROWL!" the girls started screaming. Sunstreaker glared at them. They liked the third most boring Autobot on Cybertron? Humans were poorly programmed, if HE was their idea of attractive. Some of them had shirts with his picture on them, for Primus' sake! Sunny frantically scanned the mob for anyone with a picture of him but all he found were Prowl, Jazz, Prime, and Bumblebee fans. Bumblebee had some very creative signs made in his honor. Nothing for Sunny. He growled in annoyance as Jazz and Sideswipe came from either side, hands interlocked to catch the yellow mech and drag him along at their velocity.

"Hey!" He could hear the chuckles of the humans as other amused Autobots watched Sunny get flung into a tottering Perceptor, knocking both of them down into a heap of indignation. "Watch where you're going, geek!"

"It is more than apparent to anyone with functioning optics and a rudimentary knowledge of physics that _you_ are the offending party, not _I_!" Perceptor responded-to no one in particular. His comeback came five minutes after the glaring Sunstreaker had departed. He sighed. They were being asked to clear the area for their introduction.

A smoke machine chugged along, spurting enough noxious gray gas to make babies cough. Once it had polluted sufficiently the laser lights came on to the empty rink as Blaster ululated into the microphone.

"Hellooooooo Phoenix!"

He was met with cheers (more than one person screamed for Prowl) as he played 'The Final Countdown.'

"WELCOME to the GREATEST demonstration of skating talent! Coming ALL the way from CYBERTRON: THE AUTOBOTS!"

They screamed some more as Blaster switched to "Rock and Roll Part II."

"Are. You. Ready. For...THE MINIBOTS!" Brawn gave Huffer a little shove to get going and the smaller Autobots took off, skating in tight figure eights that Sunstreaker had seen them practice in the hallways, to everyone's annoyance.

The audience went ballistic. Bumblebee caught a large stuffed bee tossed at him, waving it at the people around him as the minibots bunched up at the end, waiting for the noise to die down as Blaster introduced the next group, setting them up with 'Dr. Feelgood.'

"They're smart. They're big. They're the ones you need when you're hurt. They are…the medics!"

Perceptor fell flat on his back the minute Ratchet accidentally bumped into him, causing a domino effect that got the twins hooting. The sight of those who constantly berated them for their recklessness in a pile was too much.

"MED-IC! MED-IC! MED-IC!" they chanted, the other sports cars catching the joke and joining in. Soon the humans participated.

Perceptor refused to get off the floor, keeping his optics unlit; pretending to be knocked out. The humans didn't know any better. Ratchet allowed the scientist to transform and glide along with them as they jettisoned their original routine and merely slid out, looking stately.

"Classy as ever. Our next group keeps us high in the sky: THE AERIALBOTS!" Teenagers screeched at the sight of their cult favorites flinging each other around to 'Welcome to the Jungle.'

From the back of the line Jazz snorted. "Blaster's music's older than Primus!"

"I think he borrowed Spike's tapes again," Sideswipe agreed. "We'll know if he plays Springsteen."

'Born in the USA' assaulted their ears as the Dinobots skated out holding hands to polite applause.

"Aw, man!" Jazz and Sideswipe had a good laugh at that while the trucks came out – one mech conspicuously missing from the group. Leave it to Prime to want to make a big entrance.

Optimus stuck his head out from behind the door he was hiding. "I missed my cue, Jazz!"

"Nah, Prime, you didn't." Their leader protested that the trucks had been called, he should have gone out there with them.

"Blaster wants you to go out on your own," Prowl explained gently, leading him farther back. "For dramatic affect."

"Negative. They are not here to see only me," he replied, still confused. Sunstreaker sighed. What had he been thinking? The mech didn't have a need to be noticed.

'I'm Your Boogie Man' began enthusiastically, causing more snide commentary from Jazz and Sideswipe. Blaster allowed a moment for the hook to settle into the human's brains before he started building them up.

"They're fast. They're fierce. They'd love to take you to your Prom. I bring you…THE WARRIORS!"

Red Alert zipped out with Bluestreak at his heels, Smokescreen trailing slightly behind. Sideswipe smiled at Sunstreaker as they hoisted Jazz onto their shoulders and came out behind Prowl and Mirage. The audience ate it up, picking up the cheer of "Jazz!" as the Lamborghinis circled the rink, trying not to drop their muttering cargo.

"Wrist wrist elbow elbow elbow," they heard him say softly once their music died for the main event. The opening strains of 'Enter Sandman' began, a guitar solo that seemed to build upon itself like a dust storm, swirling and shifting until it was eclipsed by the main theme.

"AND NOW...LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, AUTOBOTS, DINOBOTS, AERIALBOTS…I PRESENT TO YOU…THE LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS, THE CHOSEN ONE, THE BEARER OF THE MATRIX OF LEADERSHIP…"

"Somebody shut him up." Sunny growled, glad they were placing the Porsche down before he scratched their enamel any worse. The crowd above them was getting hysterical.

"YOUR HERO AND MINE…**OPTIMUS PRIME!"**

The Autobot leader skated out, head down, shaking his head in embarrassment, occasionally waving to the audience as they cheered louder. He would have been happier coming out with the trucks.

"And NOW…the main event!"

"Remind me to kill Tracks later for thinking this up," Sunstreaker groused, making his way to the side designated to wear blue Autobot-sized jerseys.

"Me first!" retorted Gears. "This game will distort my alignment in no time. I just got it fixed."

Blaster got the last word again, declaring they had to honor the United States by having Silverbolt sing the National Anthem. Sideswipe had no idea he could sing. Cliffjumper pointed out that ALL Autobots could sing, it was more of a matter of who was more willing to do it in public. Silverbolt sang everywhere he went, making him a likely candidate for Blaster's last-minute scramble to find someone.

"Blaster and Tracks got stuck holding the bag when Jazz left the project, so he had a lot of stuff not finished before the event." Silverbolt hit the high notes of **"and the rocket's red glare**" perfectly. "Not cool of Jazz."

"Bite me," Jazz replied, standing behind the red mech and hearing the whole thing.

"You first!" The red minibot was not afraid of confrontation.

"Will ya'll HUSH?" their team captain demanded. "Fahght later, play now."

"Whatever," both Porsches snorted, forgetting the issue before **"home of the brave"** finished reverberating throughout the stadium.

* * *

Skywarp had been heralded as a hero by Thundercracker. The others wanted to snicker at him for having to spend the night with RAVAGE, but as Scrapper pointed out, who else would have taken one for the team? 

Astrotrain was afraid of this. The last things they needed were blackmail and security breaches. How was the attempt to get Megatron distracted going?

"Terrible," Blitzwing reported. He and Astrotrain were inside his room. They only communicated when the energon cube was at their lips, making interpretation difficult for anyone spying on them. "We need the Combaticons."

"So far it's not happening," Astrotrain declared. "I'm running out of ideas, unless Megatron does it for us."

"One can only hope," Blitzwing replied sarcastically. Tonight he had to visit his leader. "Tell me he let you off easily."

The triple-changer lifted a leg up to show the inside of his upper leg where he still had bite marks. "Maybe he'll be nice to you."

* * *

It had been a long, pointless game. Originally timed for an hour and a half, all of the sudden-death overtime made it go for twice as long as anticipated. Blaster scrapped his plans to have them show off skating tricks (the programs hadn't been ordered in time, thus no one knew what was supposed to happen anyway). The humans cleared out after a two-hour picture/autograph party followed. 

"Fifteen." Sunstreaker had counted how many people came up to him personally, not just to The Twins. "You had twenty-two."

"Come on, there's half of the stack of pictures missing. That means we had a hundred people visit us."

"Less than that. Most people grabbed the pictures we pre-signed and left. I talked to fifteen people. _Bumblebee_ had fifteen people talking to him _at once_. It's not fair."

"Get over it!" Blaster was chasing out the last of the humans and getting Warpath to scare away any potential lurkers. "You may be pretty but you ain't all that!"

"Can we go home now?" Gears whined. He had NO fans, which suited him perfectly, giving him time to try to realign his tires.

"No way, Jose. We just raised sixteen grand for AIDS studies. It's time for _open skate_!" With a flourish he issued orders in to a walkie-talkie and several disco balls lowered as pre-recorded music boomed **'**Bust a Move**.'** Few Autobots volunteered to go out until Sunstreaker chased after Sideswipe in an attempt to get him for the malicious observation he made about how Sunny should try to be a 'cuter' shade of yellow like Bumblebee and maybe he'd have more fans. Bluestreak, Jazz, Mirage, Hound, and Trailbreaker followed. Everyone else lagged behind, except for an embarrassed Optimus and the few who vowed never to skate again.

"I ran out of pictures, Prowl," he uttered in awed tones. "I thought the humans hated me."

"Obviously not," Prowl replied. "Perhaps you **are** likeable, after all."

Optimus laughed. "I may start to believe you."

* * *

They had fun. Sort of. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe did enough furtive clotheslines to Perceptor not to be caught by any authority figures but enough to discourage him from thinking his position with them was improving. Jazz was beginning to try the tricks they had not been allowed time to perform: skating backwards, crouching, dancing with Sideswipe, even jumping over Sunstreaker. The yellow mech recalled a few jumping moves he'd seen Kristi Yamaguchi do in the Olympics, landing on his brother by accident and causing Ratchet and Wheeljack to glide by chanting "MED-IC! MED-IC!" 

Trailbreaker smiled at Sunstreaker every time their optics met, making Sunny wonder if this were to be his next encounter. Hound and Mirage were still going strong, lending time for the warrior to consider other options. If only Siders weren't being such a pain…

He wouldn't admit it, but Sideswipe was still smarting from his last rejection. They had argued over this before, how Sideswipe had lousy taste in mechs, and how it always came back to haunt him when the relationship with whomever soured. Sunstreaker had TOLD him: let _them_ come and the rapport would be a more natural progression, but he was stubborn. The mech was convinced that he could conquer anyone with the same bluntness as his fists meeting with Decepticon metal. He was wrong. Sunny should know-he ran after Hound all of the time and all it did was kill him when the Jeep made up with the racecar. But Sideswipe wouldn't listen, and even in the middle of all of the fun they were having with Jazz he kept losing the smile on his face.

"Guess what, campers?" Blaster's voice came in during their attempt to see who would help Sunny throw Brawn into the air and try to catch him while in motion. "It's time…to turn down the lights…and pair up…for doubles skating." Vanessa Williams' 'Saved the Best for Last' caused a massive exodus until Blaster announced that Prime had requested this song. No one would be so rude as to dishonor their leader's choice in tunes.

"Give me a break!" Gears howled, unable to escape Bumblebee's grip. "Help?"

Sunstreaker grabbed Jazz and took off before the scramble for anyone in their clique to protect from outsiders got underway. Sideswipe almost ended up with Powerglide before Bluestreak threw a fit (something he could do on command, when he was paying attention. He must have seen Siders' panicked expression). Hound was with Mirage. Trailbreaker and Ironhide skated next to each other but didn't touch. Warpath and Cosmos linked arms like an old couple.

"Awww!" Jazz commented.

"Yeah yeah, minibot love is cute," Sunny sneered. He was trying not to trip over the Porsche's smaller, quicker steps.

"Nah, not them, _those two._" He pointed across the rink, to an odd sight near Bluestreak and Sideswipe. "But Cosmos and Warpath are cute, too."

Prime had his hand held out as a shocked Perceptor, still trying to stand up from his last fall, slowly reached up to accept it. He wobbled on his leader's strong arm, smiling demurely as he nearly took both of them down. Sunstreaker and Jazz were close enough to hear their conversation by the time the microscope had overcome his astonishment and instability and tried to skate forward.

"I apologize. I am not the most agile individual," the microscope explained contritely.

Prime nodded, put his blue hands into Perceptor's dark gray and turned to face him, skating backwards, optics never leaving his partner's. "All you have to do is hold on to me. _I won't let you fall_."

Sunstreaker hadn't realized he was coasting until Jazz asked him if he were all right. "I'm fine," he murmured absent-mindedly. "Let's go catch up to Siders." He regarded his co-skater carefully as they bypassed the few between them and their target. "Did you hear what Prime said?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Jazz didn't hear the inflection. This was not Prime merely offering assistance. It was a confession. And he wasn't the only one who'd heard it. Anybody who saw the look of horror on Sideswipe's face would have realized that.

* * *

The stronghold in Arizona had titanium walls, motion sensors, Autobot security measures, minefields surrounding the outside, _fifteen_ security codes/retina and handprint scans, and a sniper at every corner. Devastator, Menasor, and Bruticus kept Omega Supreme and the Protectobots busy as Soundwave landed on the roof and made a new entrance, to Fakkadi's army's amazement. Earth worms scattered in a panic as Decepticons tossed them aside without a second thought. The Karbombians were completely delighted. 

"This is for giving Afghanistan weapons!" one cried, shooting an American soldier.

"_THIS_ is for invading Kuwait!" another ululated, slashing the throat of an ugly blond kid.

One soldier had clearly lost it, going crazy and bayoneting someone obviously dead. "And _THIS_ is for winning the bid to host the 1994 World Cup in Detroit! DETROIT!!!!!!"

"Get a hold of yourself!" their captain commanded. "We must go to the center ring before the large Decepticons get in here."

"We have arrived," Soundwave announced over the intercom. "There is a setback."

"What?" Rumble asked, the same time Megatron radioed for a status report.

* * *

There is no greater satisfaction than the end of a stressful evening. Cleanup was quick and easy. Tracks and Blaster thanked the City of Phoenix over and over again, especially for meeting the funds raised, and if the Autobots didn't mind doing a commercial for their Convention and Tourism Bureau, it would be appreciated. Prime was satisfied with the turnout. 

Then he turned his radio back on and saw that they had gotten a call from their less verbose guardian for help.

* * *

"AN AGRICULTURAL RESEARCH PROJECT!" Decepticons ducked left and right as Megatron fired in every direction he could. President Fakkadi blinked in disbelief. They were not developing a weapon. The United Nations was working on feeding world hunger. He was so angry he would not move, he could not speak. He recovered quickly when Megatron turned his own wrath onto Abdul Fakkadi. "HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THIS?" 

"Karbombia is not part of the Untied Nations. They have had sanctions on us since 1990, when my glorious country demanded I humbly destroy the cancerous leadership devouring our beautiful republic-"

"SILENCE!! Decepticons! Retreat! _Leave the humans to the Autobots."_

The dictator did not comment. He had been spirited away by his generals who took the moment Megatron turned his back to escape. The Decepticon leader debated allowing this and ruled that he'd get him later, he had to save his own soldiers; besides, the humans would turn on him quickly enough.

* * *

Prime rolled in just in time to unleash his Autobots to clean up after the recently-retreated Decepticons. The Americans, wrathful of what had happened to their own soldiers, demanded the right to put the Kabombians into their special prison in Cuba, while the U.N. wanted to do an investigation, and while all of this went down, someone had enough sense to ask where the Autobots had been during all of this. 

"A charity program." They shook their heads in disappointment, but couldn't say too much. Optimus had discussed it with them; had warned them long ago that the Autobots could only do so much for earth and were already volunteering too much for the U.N., blah blah blah blah. (Red Alert, the only one with an active radio, had been cleared of all charges when the Autobots found out that a bad fall during the game had broken his receiver and he hadn't known.) Prime offered to personally visit the families of the deceased, which was not the point as far as President Clinton was concerned. He wanted to know _why_ the Decepticons wanted the information, and why they'd banded with the most useless government to get it?

"Either there's more than meets the eye, or Megatron made a stupid mistake," Clinton declared.

"Megatron makes mistakes," Prime replied carefully. "He may claim to be perfect, but he is far from it. He has faults and weaknesses, like any other Decepticon. The _problem_ is that he is very clever at recovering from his flaws and utilizing them to his advantage."

A disturbing thought indeed; one that set Prime's processor in motion. Perhaps he should confer with Prowl regarding his idea, or someone else. His radio sent out a signal before he could assess what he was doing.

"Perceptor, come in. This is Prime."

It was only a radio, therefore he could not see the scientist's reaction. He hoped it was favorable. "Greetings Prime. How may I help you?"

Optimus steadied himself. "I have a plan, but before I discuss it with Prowl I want another opinion. Are you free for a drink later?"

"I'm sorry, Optimus, but I'm afraid-" he grunted, as though elbowed, and a hurried whispered conversation hissed like static before another voice imposed.

"Prime, this is Wheeljack. Perceptor's free. _He_ _forgot that he asked me to watch the lab for him tonight._" Another grunt, and Perceptor confirmed this. Prime proposed a time, Wheeljack affirmed it, and they signed off.

* * *

The temporary base was blown up, for safety reasons. Soundwave dispatched Laserbeak for surveillance. Starscream did his 'I told you so' walk, although he had been refused ANY access to this plan, therefore not having an opportunity to tell him ANYTHING. Out loud. Right now an evening with Blitzwing sounded really good. That mech had the sniveling sycophant routine down pat. Still, a few Decepticons had to be punished. 

"We were temporarily set back due to a poor communication issue brought by a few IDIOTS!" he screamed. "Vortex! Swindle! Soundwave!" All three came forth. None looked particularly pleased. They were shot, given a tongue lashing, and sentenced to being the ones who had to find a way to 1) punish Fakkadi and 2) get energon to compensate that lost in today's battle and 3) clear their schedules tonight. Everyone knew what that meant. Swindle opened his mouth more than once to object, but nothing came out. Soundwave nodded humbly. Vortex simmered. Astrotrain hid a victorious thumbs-up to Blitzwing. Another wing of the Decepticon army would be joining them soon, he was certain of it.

* * *

"So what are you in the mood for?" Sideswipe held up their newest collection of videos, including 'Wayne's World,' their favorite. 

"Whatever." Jazz replied, getting comfortable. He was 'spending the night.' Blaster's complete lack of pathos coupled with Sideswipe's landslide of unhappiness made Sunstreaker decide to up the ante by inviting Jazz to stay overnight, a generous offer in his opinion given that Jazz had been a hard mech to endure for long periods of time.

"Porn it is." Sideswipe put in 'Big Banana Jones and the Temple of Poon' as Sunstreaker objected. "They go back tomorrow! Primus! Let me get my money's worth."

"Crank the volume!" Jazz called from Sideswipe's plate. (Sunny wanted nothing to do with this.) "Make 'em think it's us!"

Who would be so stupid? Sunny shut off his optics and audiosensors and went offline quickly, to Jazz's delight. It was a lot easier to make fun of this stuff without the designated Wet Blanket around.

Sideswipe didn't want to hear any of the Porsche's commentary. He didn't want to think about anything right now; all he wanted to do was get lost in the lack of plot.

* * *

Black fingers were working their way up the outside of his upper leg as a visored face peered up to see if he had been noticed. It broke up the daydream, to Sideswipe's irritation. The blond female in the shower scene was covered in suds and begging the other man not to let his wife know, since they were 'best friends and shared everything.' 

"EVERYTHING?" the man leered.

Jazz's fingers softly traced Sideswipe's helmet, tickling him. The visor glowed longingly, hungrily. "Since we're both up, do you wanna-"

"No," he replied shortly. If there was one thing he was not in the mood for, it was playing with someone while something else burned in his processor, like settling for human energon when high-grade had been what he craved all day.

"Sorry." Jazz settled back down and tried not to sulk. For a threesome these two were boring.

* * *

Soundwave could hear many things floating in his processor at once as he tried to read the thoughts of his fellow Decepticons. He read the worry in Megatron's as he fixated over his frustrations. Starscream was a blank slate (strange). Rumble thought of nothing but his usual dreams of glory. Astrotrain seemed uneasy. Skywarp radiated the aura of an unhappy warrior; as though something awful had to be exorcised from his database or he'd never rest again. Ravage purred. 

Megatron pulled Soundwave into his throne room after 'punishing' Vortex and Swindle. He brooded on his throne, boredom and uncertainty seeping out of him. Not nervous uncertainty-this was more along the wave of an avoidance-avoidance situation decision.

"I have promoted Starscream to Air Commander. He is not my second-in-command, however. That particular distinction will remain yours. IF…"

Soundwave never interrupted, even when prompted. He remained kneeling.

"Why have I lost the abilities my creator and you taught me?" he demanded.

This was the first Soundwave had heard of this. Had he lost it, too?

"Recent upgrade; potential for neural distortion."

Megatron stood up. "You do not know for certain?"

Soundwave was on thin ice and needed to process quickly. He could not admit any flaws in his own maintenance skills.

"For Starscream."

Megatron nodded reluctantly. He HAD been repaired hastily after a crippling defeat. This did not explain how he could talk to Megatron. Not that the silver leader could admit this. So Soundwave had known little, if not less, of how this power had disappeared. Perhaps his last link-up with the other part of his laser core had been too long ago. It would be awhile before he could contact him, even longer to convince him to leave his post, and in the meantime Megatron was foundering-

Soundwave remained in a respectful pose, picking up only a few of the impulses running through his leader, like a fading radio. What had happened?

-but that shouldn't be an issue. Perhaps Laserbeak could send out a message-

From outside of the base Buzzsaw demanded reentry. This gave Soundwave a perfect excuse to let his presence be known. He played the buzzard's transmission and watched Megatron frown grimly.

Abdul Fakkadi was ready to cooperate with the United Nations, if they were interested in hearing about Megatron's "latest plan."

"He was a _part_ of my latest plan!" the Decepticon leader roared. "Soundwave! Assemble the army! It's time for revenge."

* * *

There were some very unpleasant aspects of his job. Prowl had to tolerate a lot of issues, incompetence, inconceivable setbacks, inundation of idiots, and illustrious ill-tempered villains, but this, _this_, THIS was the reason they had Jazz. Unfortunately, Jazz was busy. This could not wait. Prime was behind on his responsibilities, Smokescreen and Ratchet did not raise their hands, Ironhide blatantly refused to do it, and Jazz had the night off and was nowhere to be found. That left Prowl as the one who heard the bad news and had to pass it on. 

He found him in his room, polishing his legs as Blaster lay on the floor in boom box mode, playing music. They both stood at attention when Prowl walked in.

"We received a call from New York. There were complications. Raul did not survive the second operation."

Tracks remained at attention, optics losing their glow faster than a flashlight on dim batteries. He waited.

"You have been denied permission to attend the funeral."

The red lips curled down involuntarily. "He's not happy until I'm miserable," he snarled, hands clenched into fists.

"I'd advise you to keep your comments to yourself," Prowl replied coolly. "Because of the recent Decepticon attack we have elevated our status to a high state of emergency, thus any and all requests to leave the vicinity have been denied."

"Prowl, we're always in a state of emergency!" Blaster interjected. "Have a heart, man! This was his best friend!"

The Datsun remained dispassionate. "This is not a matter of heart. This is a matter of protection. When we are downgraded to a lower security code you will be allowed first leave. Good night."

He could hear him swearing through the door. "I do not for one _second_ believe this is a security issue! That fucking truck!"

"Shh! Shh! SHHH! It's okay, T. We'll think of something. It's okay!" The Corvette's angry rants were muffled into sobs of bitter loneliness. "Raul understands. You know he does."

"Yeah, but I can't tell him. And I never will."

"You will," Blaster promised. Prowl walked away, hating his job. Where was Jazz?

* * *

Jazz waited until he heard the alternating snores of the two brothers before creeping out to get another movie. He ran into Hound. 

"Is Sunstreaker in there?"

Jazz nodded. "Fast asleep."

"Oh." He turned around and walked alongside Jazz, working up the nerve. "Are you three REALLY…doing all that?"

Jazz smiled in that way that could be variously interpreted. "You know I don't brag."

Hound chuckled. "That means you're not, or we'd be comparing notes."

Jazz laughed with him. (Comparing notes…Sunny must have another talent besides annoying the slag out of everybody.) "Maybe, maybe not."

Hound smiled back, something phony about the curve on his face making his tone insincere. "I'm glad he's happy."

* * *

"PULL INTO FORMATION!! THRUST! GET BACK HERE OR I'M GIVING YOU BARNACLE REMOVAL DUTY!" 

Thrust sighed. Starscream would make them PAY for any and all insults, real or imagined, intentional or not, now that he was Air Force Commander again. Frenzy was his first target, punished for daring to tell the rest of the army about Starscream's lousy technique. The rest were feeling the sting like aftershocks and wondered why Megatron had decided to reinstate him. The more bad choices their leader made, the more likely their rebellion would get off the ground, instead of the usual implosion/discovery that occurred.

"GET BEHIND ME OR I OPEN FIRE!" their team leader screeched, shooting Astrotrain in the rockets. The triple-changer sailed to the back, darkly grumbling that _someone_ was making up for lost time. This whole mission was a farce, anyway. Find and destroy a human in hiding. This was not the proverbial clean bolt in a junkheap, this was on a nuclear level of exploration. Why didn't they just torture it out of somebody?

"BECAUSE WE KNOW WHERE HE IS, THAT'S WHY!"

Ramjet pulled ahead. "Let's go!" The jet pulled ahead and then seemed to change his mind midway, going back into formation. "You don't have to threaten to tell Megatron _that_, Starscream."

"He didn't," replied Astrotrain. "Nobody said anything."

"Stay in formation anyway!" Starscream cut in impatiently. "Our target is below us. FIRE!"

A small compound, barely large enough to house Soundwave's tapes, ignited quickly and blew up even faster.

"Must've had a whole arsenal in there," Thrust supposed.

"Fun's over! Head back to base!"

Fine with them. The Combaticons had called a secret meeting.

* * *

'_You are not looking well. Perhaps you should rest.'_ There was no response. Megatron tried again, losing patience quickly. '_I know you can hear me, Starscream. Acknowledge!'_

His Air Commander remained inert, kneeling on the floor and awaiting further orders.

"You have failed to detect Fakkadi, Starscream. His presumed location was abandoned at the time you bombed it, something you would have realized had you bothered to follow procedure and use a scout."

"I will not fail you again, _mighty_ Megatron." Megatron's fourth in command was as sarcastic as ever. Tired, too.

"Dismissed."

He drifted into a sea of consciousness that played like a hundred movies at once, recalling events or making them up as he slumbered, but none came in sharp enough to merit his attention, except for the small excerpt recalling his birth.

By 'birth,' he really saw the moment his optics turned on and he faced his creator.

"My prince!" the unknown mech called triumphantly. "This one will usher us to the promised era!" He turned back to his students, all brainy and young. "I have given this one parts from a well-known priest and tel-"

It switched to Skyfire, ripping his Decepticon symbol off, to a yellow Lamborghini attacking him, to Megatron shooting him dead after his victory, to other strange sights that crowded him like a muddy stream swirling with blood from an unknown source.

* * *

"We join, but not willingly," Swindle was the designated negotiator. "We're not making a profit here with you." 

"Like we care," Rumble retorted.

Bonecrusher ignored him. He had no idea how he had been pushed into the front to do this, but there he was, doing the usual: Loading (responsibility), moving (himself to the front), and unloading (information).

"So the plan is this: we've modified the communicator to keep anyone from seeing us when we take the spacebridge."

Someone snickered.

"We're going to distract him. Then we'll take the spacebridge, kill Shockwave, _destroy _the spacebridge, start a riot-"

Someone laughed out loud.

"-and leave Megatron with Soundwave and Starscream for the Autobots."

They didn't bother to conceal it. The Combaticons cracked up.

"What?" Bonecrusher demanded irritably.

After five minutes, Swindle shook his head and calmed down enough to ask them how they planned on distracting Megatron.

"That's where you come in!" Motormaster replied, tired of all this delay. They told them the plan, now they had to agree to do it so that they could move on. "You gotta distract him!"

This brought on a fresh attack of derisive laughter.

"You-you're _serious?_" Swindle couldn't control himself any longer. "_That's_ your plan? Tap him on the shoulder and _run_?"

"Who's idea was THAT?" Vortex demanded. "Astrotrain's?"

As they continued to chortle the other Decepticons exchanged uneasy glances.

"_Your_ plans didn't work out either, remember?" Scrapper challenged. "You'd still be in a holding block if Starscream hadn't bailed you out."

The Combaticons stood up at attention at that.

Mixmaster smirked. "D-d-do you have a better idea?"

"We have," Onslaught replied stiffly. "Because while _you_ were planning your _coup d'etate ridiculous_…WE found Fakkadi."

* * *

Sunstreaker awoke to a pleasant distraction. Someone was kissing him. Soft, gentle, methodical enough to not allow him to drift off. He settled the score by punching the mech in the face hard enough to knock him to the floor. 

"There's more where that came from, slagger! Oh." He was in trouble now. "Fraggit Hound, I've told you not to _do_ that!"

Hound sat up ruefully, watching Sideswipe grumble as he rotated to face the wall. "I'll have you anyway I want you, geek," Siders garbled, still asleep.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I wanted to wake _you_ up, not him." Hound made a move to climb into the plate with his yellow friend.

Sunstreaker sighed. This pattern had gone on too long: Hound and Mirage argued, Hound ran to Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker comforted him, Hound went back, Sunny got hurt, all was well for awhile, then another fight.

The jeep wrapped his arms around the Lamborghini and sighed deeply. "I had another fight with Mirage. He said you weren't faking it."

"Faking what?" Sunstreaker replied sleepily, unable to process even at a basic level this time of night.

"Faking being with Jazz and Sideswipe," he replied, moving in to kiss Sunny again.

Sunstreaker balked. "It's not fake."

Hound looked into his optics and smiled serenely. He knew Sunstreaker better than that: he didn't share, he didn't do anything crazy, unless he was trying to get Hound's attention, which this was. Hound was not about to reveal that he was onto this ploy. "Sunny…you're…going out with your own brother?"

"No!" he hissed. "I'm going out with Jazz! It's just that…he wanted to go out with both of us, and they wouldn't let me go first."

Hound didn't know how to react to that. He stared for a good long time. "I think you've let all those movies Sideswipe makes you watch warp your idea of what's right."

Sunstreaker shoved Hound off of his plate as hard as he could. "Hound," he said clearly, trying to keep from waking his brother, "I think you either have cast-iron manifolds or are too stupid to hear yourself talk. I don't want to be your 'backup' anymore. Go home."

Hound made a small noise of hurt but obeyed, closing the door as softly as he could.

Sunstreaker leaned against the wall and groaned. So this was how it ended. 'Interesting?' No. Thanks a lot, Jazz.

* * *

"Thanks a lot, Starscream!" 

He didn't care. He wasn't accepting any type of peace offering from Frenzy, no matter how much he talked it up. "Nothing you could say would interest me in the slightest! Get out, pipsqueak!" Maybe if he showed it…

This was not going well.

* * *

"Swindle to Megatron! Swindle to Megatron!" 

He'd been enjoying a fine cube of energon with a less-than enthusiastic Thrust when the call came in.

"Report."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAhi!"

That was a recognizeable scream. "You have him!" Megatron's optics glowed.

Onslaught interpolated the frequency. "Of course we do! You never gave the call to cease searching."

"No, I didn't…" Megatron felt his excitement mounting. No, wait, that was Thrust. He shoved him off and pulled him out the door, looked around and saw Ramjet and Dirge standing nearby. Soundwave was nowhere in the vicinity. No matter; this would be quick and those surrounding him were sufficient.

* * *

Soundwave stared, completely confused. 

"Repeat petition."

Skywarp tried not to scowl, hating every moment of this. Thundercracker had come up with the idea, saying that it was the only way to distract Soundwave and keep him from sensing what they were doing, since he could detect thought patterns and any errant impulses would give them all away.

"WHY ME?" he demanded.

Thundercracker shrugged. "Who else?"

Now, the moment he had to rise to the occasion his nerve was failing him. This was disgusting.

"I want to…" he swallowed another grimace. "…ask your permission to date Ravage."

The cat in question was so excited he was turning circles and yowling at Soundwave's feet, scratching at his leg in ecstasy. He eagerly leapt into Soundwave's tape holder to voice his enthusiasm.

"State rationale."

This was the easiest part. "We…um…shared a nice moment, and I liked it, and…I want it to continue." It was Onslaught's speech. Skywarp should have roughed it up a little, judging by the tape player's cold, unresponsive stare. That could be his imagination. Skywarp tried to smile pleasantly. "I like him." He needed to be more convincing. "He's got a lot of spirit."

Megatron's second-in-command continued to pontificate with that unrelenting gaze on the inwardly cringing jet. He was sure Soundwave would let this happen; that was the jet's rotten luck. The minutes ticked.

* * *

Red Alert woke them all up with his usual hair-trigger alarm hysterics. 

"The Combaticons have Abdul Fakkadi hostage! The United Nations want us to save him before Megatron gets there!"

"Is Megatron on his way?" Hound asked sleepily through the conference radio.

"No…"

"Gimme another five minutes," Ironhide replied, turning over.

"This is Optimus Prime. All Autobots are to report outside NOW."

Ironhide sighed and climbed off of his plate. "It was worth a shot." His green guest slunk out a few moments later.

* * *

Certainly he was running out of time. This was a situation requiring canniness and wit. Abdul Fakkadi had neither of these. He had a big mouth and arrogance. He demanded water. He had to duck when Vortex almost crushed him to pieces. 

The wait was excruciating. If only they could just KILL the human already-

"Guess who?" Onslaught whispered over their radio connection. The other four looked up to see his curt nod towards the southwest.

Swindle shifted uncomfortably. The Constructicons were waiting in a nearby hanger for their signal. The Stunticons would be following a discrete distance from Megatron, thus accompanied by anyone but Decepticons who could bail him out. Fakkadi twitched in the heat and complained copiously. The Jeep felt the nervousness twist inside of him as he recalled what happened the first time he had tried to kill Megatron, and the time after that, as Bruticus. What made them think this attempt would work?

Brawl, Vortex, and Blast Off wiggled with the same unease as the wind picked up and swirled the desert sand like talcum powder.

"He's coming."

* * *

"I know you want it," Frenzy wheedled. 

Starscream drew himself up to his tallest and towered over his hated enemy. "Give it to me and then leave!"

They were tiny, pink cylinders in a package of ten. They looked-and smelled-disgusting. As Starscream backed away in repulsion, Frenzy smiled his most charming.

"They're called Hot Dogs. NOBODY knows what's in 'em."

He yanked them out of the cassette's hand. "I'll know by the end of the hour!"

* * *

"Sky Spy's spotted them somewhere over…there!" Prowl announced. 

"I know that area!" Beachcomber exclaimed. "I'll lead the way!"

"Transform and roll out!" Optimus called.

Sideswipe shook himself back into the real world, because he was falling behind, lost in another daydream. The continent got darker the further west they went, and the driving seemed to never end. Where was Skyfire when you needed him?

* * *

He descended from the ground without fanfare or warning. Silver, tyrannical…flanked by Dirge, Thrust, Ramjet, and a recently acquired Thundercracker. 

"Give-that _thing_-to me," he hissed, black fist clenched eagerly.

Onslaught never missed a histrionic moment. "You heard him! LET HIM HAVE IT!"

* * *

"Request denied." 

Skywarp couldn't keep the smile away, so he quickly moved his hand to his mouth to make it seem like he was trying to hold back a sob of disappointment.

"Why not?"

Ravage could be heard mewling pathetically.

"You are an unacceptable companion."

"Unacceptable how?" Skywarp forgot the charade in his indignation. How DARE he?

"Soundwave! Come in! This is Megatron! COME IN!"

The large blue mech pressed a button. "Hail Megatron!"

"I'm being torn apart by Constructions! Prepare to render aid in coordinates-AUGH!"

Soundwave didn't wait. He dashed past his visitor and up the hall to the exit without acknowledgement. Skywarp followed after five minutes.

* * *

Megatron's unofficial punching bag carefully lifted the corner of the hot dog package and gently placed it into a nearby container. "I've never seen anything like it!" He spoke in hushed tones, as though he'd discovered radium. 

"So are we cool?" the red tape demanded.

"No! I will avoid disintegrating you, however. Unless you again incur my wrath."

"_Incur your wrath_?" This was too much. "You slaggin' geek! Can't you talk-"

"Silence!" Without warning, Starscream stood up straight, tilted his head, stared into space as though someone were standing behind him and whispering into his audios, and rushed out.

Frenzy hurried behind.

* * *

It was as though an entire pool of smelt had fallen from the sky: Starscream arrived in time to see Decepticons trying to kill Megatron while trying to ward off Soundwave and the Autobots while Soundwave tried to free Megatron and kill the Autobots while the Autobots tried to free Fakkadi and ward of the Decepticons while Megatron tried to kill everyone but Soundwave. Starscream sat down and drew a diagram in the sand for clarification. 

After about fifteen minutes it became apparent that Megatron was losing. If these dimwitted Decepticons accomplished what he, Starscream, could not, then he would never hear the end of it. On the other wing…these idiots were pretty easy to subdue. Once they got this revolution out of their system, they would be pretty docile.

He had to give Megatron credit: the silver mech was giving as good as he got. Right now those irritating Lamborghini brothers were being used as shields. He didn't beg for help either.

The Seeker's radio crackled. "Assistance required." Guess who that was?

"You don't need _my_ help. You're doing fine!" Soundwave had spent a great deal of time trying to command obedience from his mech-like tapes, to no avail. It was him, Ravage, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak (oops! Not any more!) and Megatron against EVERYONE. Starscream wished he'd brought some energon.

"State terms."

This elicited a laugh. "You think you can give me something to help _you_ save _Megatron_?" Buzzsaw fell from Bluestreak's sharpshooting and was quickly covered in dust. Soundwave's next transmission was desperate, almost pleading. Starscream waited a full five minutes, enough time to see Brawn AND Brawl simultaneously knock Megatron's cannon free from his arm.

"I want my second-in-command status reinstated."

BOOM! Devastator fell apart from Soundwave's rattling radio waves. "Not negotiable."

Ravage ended up at the bottom of a mini-bot dogpile, the poor kitty. Starscream gleefully pointed this out. "I could use an ally," he finally replied. A tape player and his tiny minions would be nice.

"Terms accepted. Commence plan."

Well, it was fun while it lasted. "Take down Bruticus from the back. I'll get rid of the Autobots." Once he found Fakkadi and tossed him a couple of miles away, the Autobots would pull back and save the human, like they always did. Why didn't Soundwave ever think of these things?

* * *

"This is an outrage! How DARE you treat ME, the honorable Abdhul Fakkadi, in such a manor! Heads will roll! What are you-" Bumblebee stuffed him into Ratchet's back compartment and whacked the ambulance van on the rear fender as hard as he could. 

"Roll out!" he called, eager to get that irksome character OUT of there already. The other Autobots didn't notice, being involved in witnessing the pageant a far enough away to merit investigation.

"So what's wrong with this picture?" Jazz asked, hand on chin in his 'intellectual' pose.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glanced in his visor's intended direction.

"They're revolting?" Sideswipe guessed.

"They were always revolting," Jazz quipped. "But I guess some mechs have lousy taste in color schemes…"

"Never mind," Prime announced, cutting a wide berth around Tracks and Blaster to get to the front of the crowd. "We don't get involved in _domestic squabbles_."

Jazz got excited when the Combaticons surrounded Soundwave and Starscream and forced them to relinquish their weapons. "Can we stay and see the end?"

Optimus considered this. "I suppose we _should_. We have to find out who wins. For defense purposes."

"Right!" they chorused, getting comfortable.

"Wish I had some energon," Bumblebee sighed.

* * *

His own troops had outsmarted him. He'd been able to take cover behind the only dune available-in plain sight of the Autobots, humiliating enough-and the Decepticons were coming up fast upon him, and looked as though they were not in a cheerful mood. As Megatron gazed upon the sneering flock of Seekers he deduced the whole thing was Starscream's fault. Except that Starscream wasn't even there for most of this. His Air Commander, deeply offended he hadn't been included in one of the few _successful_ takeover plans executed, was standing with his arms crossed in disbelief behind a wall of armed Combaticons. Soundwave remained next to him with the charred remains of his loyal tapes, not reacting at all. 

"I. Do. Not. NEGOTIATE!" Firing his last round from a stolen Autobot gun was a definite lapse in judgment. They laughed harder at him. Where could he go? He was so deeply wounded he couldn't fly, he was out of ammunition, and had nowhere to go if he DID escape.

"If you were processing instead of chasing tailpipe all the time, you'd know better!" Skywarp retaliated without any qualms.

Megatron tried not to panic. There had to be a ringleader, some kind of instigator. He looked up from his position crouched on the ground and tried to formulate a plan; one that would get them to stop shooting at him en masse.

"All right!…all right. Who is your representative?"

Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanged glances. "All of us," they replied.

This did not bode well. He watched them surround his dune and tried to think of something to ask. "What are your demands, traitors?"

Frenzy stopped firing to address the crowd. "Ya see that? The first time we have a problem and he starts callin' us names."

"That's too bad," Dirge jeered. "I don't think we should let him." The wheeze of blasters convinced Megatron to try another tactic.

"Stop! Have it your way! I will leave you alone!"

"All of us?" demanded Blitzwing.

"All of you!" The traitorous slagheaps.

"I don't want you getting revenge on us for doing this," reminded Thrust.

Megatron sighed. "There are times when a leader must listen to his army. This is one of those moments." He tried to put on a sincerely saddened expression. "I do not understand why you feel the need to associate with each other. We are not the Autobot army. Look at them!" he gestured to the accumulated mass of enemy observing what Prime was more than likely labeling a 'domestic squabble.' The triumphant tone he took when he said that burned Megatron's circuits. "They were built as pleasurebots, programmed to service their masters' base needs, and once we freed them they chased after each other – as well as us – with a complete lack of concentration!" His anger was getting the better of him, he'd better calm down. "We are _superior_ to our programs."

"Then why did you make us do all that weird stuff?"

Because he could. "Loyalty must be tested in many forms," he explained.

Optimus Prime, who had been holding back both Ironhide and Cliffjumper, burst out laughing. "I'll tell you why he did it: you _let_ him!" The other Autobots joined in.

Flustered, the Stunticons formed Menasor and chased their enemy away. When they returned they found an unhappy Megatron out from behind his dune and being kicked by anyone who could put a foot in.

"Either kill me or don't!" The silver mech announced as they pulled back upon Menasor's direction. "You are doing nothing to further your cause!"

"He's right," Hook agreed, taking the lead for the first time. "Our demands are simple: no more paying homage, no retribution for our protest, and more energon."

Beneath all of them their leader grunted. "I will yield, on one condition. We are entering a mutual agreement in which I am relinquishing a great deal of control. Control that I will never have again." He waited for the enormity of what he was saying to enter their processors. "As proof of _my _adherence, I will give you your freedom. As testimony of _your_ agreement, _you_ will give _collateral_. One of you must volunteer to be my consort in the stead of your unit." He wished he'd thought of that earlier. If anything would guarantee the ringleader emerging, it would be the opportunity to claim all of the power and privileges of being a co-liege!

Sure enough, they glanced at each other, some in horror, some in bewilderment, others with a desperate calculation. Scavenger spoke up first. "Would that mean we don't have to work anymore and are second-in-command, like Starscream used to be?"

They were all his again. Megatron's optics gleamed in a mixture of relief and triumph. "You would be exulted _above_ any so-called exultation of Starscream."

"WHAT!?" shrieked the Seeker (as well as Soundwave), unheard above the clambering of the rest of the Decepticons calling for their own applications to be accepted. Megatron was hauled up to his feet, dust brushed away from his body, affectionate hands caressing his silver arms and back as dulcet tones proclaimed his greatness. Rumble ran for his gun barrel; Ramjet called him 'dear.' They were falling over themselves to be his favorite. It was a heady moment.

"_YOU BLASTED FOOLS!"_

Above Starscream's protests and Soundwave's silent glares and the chaos of every Decepticon wanting a larger share of power was the fury of a frustrated Astrotrain. "YOU'RE VOLUNTEERING TO DO WHAT WE JUST REBELLED AGAINST! YOU'VE JUST DEFEATED THE PURPOSE OF OUR TRYING TO TAKE OVER CYBERTRON!"

He was very clever, but whenever things started going wrong, Astrotrain lost his mind. "We have our ringleader," Starscream proclaimed, an extraneous declaration since he was already being shot to pieces by his former army. The triple-changer crumpled to the ground, staring up at his Air Commander.

Megatron watched Starscream nudge what was left of the mech below him with his foot, inspiration striking quickly. "My beloved-" Ha! "Decepticons. As promised, I will honor your demands. You will be allotted another fifty percent energon!" This was met with a murmur of approval. "I will forgive and forget this incident." More heads nodded. "To prove that _personal _contact is not essential, and because of your willingness to uncover the voice that turned you against me, I will remain celibate as a covenant!"

"What about your consort?" Soundwave finally gained control over his rage and spoke.

"There is no need." Megatron stopped and considered this. "Traitors belong together. Astrotrain will be _Starscream's_ consort. Congratulations." Starscream wanted to protest but ran out of time as Megatron called for all of them to return to base for their new energon rations.

* * *

"Who do you think won?" Wheeljack postulated as they drove from the fray. 

"Megatron ALWAYS wins," Ratchet growled fiercely. "Those Decepticons are too stupid to realize when they're being manipulated."

"Unlike us," Tracks muttered, a little too loud. They ignored him.

"You know…" Bluestreak's wheels were turning quickly. "What would you do if we turned on you?"

"I thought you already had weekend plans!" Jazz protested.

"NO!" the Datsun laughed with the others. "I mean, yeah, I have plans, but-"

"You are asking hypothetically how Prime would react to usurpation?" Perceptor interrupted. He was riding with Wheeljack again.

"Yeah! I think." Perceptor's words required a dictionary.

Prime considered this for a few miles. "If The Matrix of Leadership found another, more worthy Autobot, then I would have to step down."

The engines of all of the surrounding cars hummed as they despondently considered this. Optimus not good enough…who could replace him? No one wanted to, even if they _were_ worthy. How would they work with anybody else? Ultra Magnus might be the next Prime if something happened to _Optimus_, but that was another impulse best ignored. Bluestreak felt sorry he'd asked, since the thoughts this had produced were not ones he wished to indulge. Then Jazz spoke up.

"C'mon, Prime! We'd give you a decent severance package."

They cracked up.

Thus the order of the universe was restored.

* * *

The mech was a total mess. Soundwave beheld what was left of Astrotrain hastily being put together by a frantic Starscream with enough detachment to belie his still-simmering fury. 

All this time Megatron's words promising SOUNDWAVE'S honor and glory had been lip service. He should have known. At no point in his long enlistment had the offer of consort _ever_ been made. Had the tape player known it was an option he would have inveigled it out of their leader long ago. Now all he had was a larger energon ration and a heartbroken Ravage. He didn't want to _think _about Rumble and Frenzy.

"I have not had time to contemplate our means of rectifying the power shift the other Decepticons have gained," he rushed, twisting bolts and replacing parts as fast as he could. Hawkeye Pierce would have been proud. "I'm SURE you've considered a few options."

"Negative."

Astrotrain was losing a lot of fluids. Starscream changed a few pipes and conductors before asking if he had ANY plans. Soundwave did not.

"What kind of ally are you?" he finally demanded in exasperation.

"Not an ally."

His potential cohort had transformed into a large blue impediment to his doorway; one that required blasting if the shooter weren't elbow-deep in misfiring circuitry. "What of our bargain?"

The one obscuring the door gestured towards the conflagration on the table. "Ally bestowed, contract fulfilled."

The scene of their leader declaring that the two deserved each other flashed back into Starscream's processor. "You mean to tell me that YOU told Megatron to give me this traitor?"

"_You're not the only one who can influence minds."_

Starscream dropped his tools. "Out," he hissed, grabbing at them with slimy hands. "And speak of this to no one."

* * *

Outside of Starscream's lab Frenzy awaited with a message for Astrotrain on a CD. Soundwave didn't give him a backward glance. 

"Boss!" he called a few minutes later. The cassette was ignored.

"BOSS!" He'd been joined by Rumble.

"C'mon, Soundwave! Don't be like that!"

"Do not speak to me," he retorted crisply.

They hurried at his feet, begging for a moment to explain their side of the story. He refused to acknowledge them. Rumble claimed that they did it for Frenzy, Frenzy added that they were doing it to improve the lives of every Decepticon, and that they didn't want to get him in trouble, since they _knew_ he'd had a duty to rat them out, and-

"SILENCE!" he blasted, turning around to point an infuriated finger at them. "Apologies rejected. Rationale unacceptable."

Rumble and Frenzy exchanged glances as the tape player pressed his shoulder button and released one pathetic-looking tape.

Ravage looked at them with the fury of a being who'd been the victim of a prank. His red optics were flashing…but his shoulders drooped. Skywarp and Thundercracker popped around the corner and ducked away from the conflict before them, their movements tracked by Ravage's sleek black head.

Rumble and Frenzy knew immediately what Soundwave wanted them to do. Leave it to their master to demand an apology for someone who didn't deserve it, and if they didn't sound sincere enough for Ravage, Soundwave wouldn't forgive them either. They exchanged glances and knelt down, enveloping the cat in their arms. They pet him, scratched his ears, and told him he was a nice kitty.

"We're sorry, Ravage."

"We didn't realize that Skywarp would hurt you're feelings like that."

Frenzy, as usual, was over the top. "You know what? It's his loss, buddy. You're great."

"Yeah! We'll help you find somebody better. I got a cube with your name on it in my room. We'll drink 'til the whole thing's funny."

Ravage enjoyed the praise and forgave them. As for the energon…the cassettes glanced up hopefully.

Soundwave nodded.

"C'mon! Last one there's a rusty mackerel!" All three raced down the hall, joined by Buzzsaw and Laserbeak.

They were worse than a Brady Bunch episode. Another horrible thing he'd done with Megatron: watching earth television. Why had he done so many unappetizing things for this Decepticon if his repayment was to promise the _foot soldiers_ the one thing Soundwave wanted?

He was at the throne room before he'd realized it. He couldn't stay away from Megatron. If he did, he could lose whatever advantage he still had. He couldn't lose his position. Soundwave had to fight for what he had, and for what he could get, because no Decepticon could accomplish what they truly desired unless they fought their own weaknesses and won. Megatron had taught him that.

Megatron…capricious at worst. Maliciously precise at best. He had backed down and given the rebels what they wanted to keep his army intact, but why he had imposed a physical tribute to rile them was beyond even Soundwave's empathetic abilities. He'd tried to kill Starscream one moment and rescued him the next; convinced the Dinobots to turn when he should have tried to destroy them and tried to destroy the Aerialbots when he should have recruited them, taken Prime apart but allowed him to function, imprisoned humans instead of genocide, etc. The list went on and on. Soundwave should question his leader's motives but it was hard to do when for every plan that didn't work on earth, three plans on Cybertron _did_. Shockwave reported an increasing number of victories accomplished from tactics their leader conceived while trapped on this planet. They were about to eradicate the Autobots entirely, except for the pitiful band that confounded them at every turn _here_. It was puzzling.

Should these spoils accumulate at the rate they were, Soundwave stood to inherit a large percentage of an empire; if he kept favor. As he stared at the throne room door the tape player determined that he would fight any upstart and keep what was his. All he had to do was continue to be the perfect accomplice.

The summons rang just as he opened the door. Megatron stood in front of the computer terminal, scheming. He beamed at his second-in-command.

"Ah, Soundwave! Excellent! I have a new plan…"

At least the tape player was a trustworthy associate. For now.

But the moment he could, like a true fighter, Soundwave would destroy anyone who got in his path. It was a good idea to remember that.

* * *

"Not again! Get this slag OFF of my television screen!" Sunstreaker bellowed, causing Sideswipe to jump, hastily hitting the stop button and losing whatever train of thought he had going. "Siders, what in the name of Primus are you doing here watching porn? You were supposed to go out on patrol with Trailbreaker two hours ago!" 

"Slag!" Sideswipe grabbed the blaster out from under his bed, dashing for the door but not quite making it thanks to Sunstreaker's arm attempting a clothesline. "That doesn't work on me, loser!"

"I didn't do it for THAT reason, rust-for-brains. I want to ask you something."

"It'll have to wait, Prowl's got a left foot that'll be happy for days if it can kick my tailpipe." Still Sideswipe was blocked. "WHAT?" he demanded, finally halting his assault.

"Give me your cards."

If he could he would have blinked. "Why?"

"You know why." Sideswipe had to go cold turkey or he could never salvage his dignity. Sunstreaker didn't have to tell him this; the Lamborghini already knew, thus the stalling tactic. Sunny held his hand out expectantly. "C'mon, bro. You're getting later."

Sideswipe sighed in irritation and pulled video membership/credit cards out of subspace, tossing them at his brother.

"Sideswipe! Come in! Have you left yet?"

Sunstreaker waved his brother back. Sideswipe ran to pick up the line. "I'm right here, Jazz."

"I figured. I pulled a few strings so that you're not in trouble but we need a warm engine in the radio tower for a couple of hours. I don't think anybody will call but I need someone over here 'til four."

"Sure." Jazz must have done some juggling to get someone to cover him. Before he left he told Sunstreaker that he hoped he was happy.

"I'm not the one still crying over some guy I never liked in the first place," he replied.

"Frag you! I wasn't crying over Perceptor!"

Sunstreaker leaned his head out the doorway. "Who said anything about Perceptor?"

Sideswipe started, turned around, and stalked away, muttering. Sunny ran after him. Sideswipe dodged the slap to the back of his helmet he had correctly assumed was coming to him and turned to face his brother head-on.

"For Primus' sake Siders! Get OVER him already!" Sunny glared.

"You should talk!" His brother never really liked anybody, except for one, and he'd never really gotten past his annoyance that Hound would dare find someone more attractive than he.

"I just sent him out last night to make up with Mirage. I don't want to do this anymore and I decided I'm breaking a bad habit. Now it's your turn."

Sideswipe was not one to back away from a challenge. He would forget about Perceptor tonight. Did this mean they had to stop gluing him to the ceiling?

"Nah. That's too much fun."

"All right!" Sideswipe had to go, but felt a lot better.

Sunstreaker felt fantastic. He'd saved the day again! It's drinkin' time!

* * *

He had hoped to get out of the control room before Blaster and Steeljaw came in, but he'd wasted too much time talking to Sideswipe. 

"Hi," the tape player greeted him glumly as he set up the next hour's radio tape.

"I was just making my exit," Jazz announced, trying to keep from meeting his optics .

Blaster sighed. "Ya got a minute?"

Jazz sighed too. "No."

"Hold up! Wait a minute! Jazz!" The Porsche glanced back expectantly. "Man, I'm sorry."

Jazz bit back a 'you should be' and replied "Past star systems, Blaster."

"You weren't boring."

Jazz grinned, not feeling the expression but trying to keep some semblance of grace. "I know that."

"And you're right. I took your idea."

It's easy to apologize for public wrongdoing in private. Still, Jazz had lost the desire to mull over past transgressions. "You guys took what I had and made it into something bigger. You raised a lot of money. Nothin' wrong with that."

"I'm sorry we gave you a hard time."

He could feel his patience slipping. "You were under a lot of pressure. It's okay."

Blaster smiled stiffly, glancing at the anxious Steeljaw and looking back at Jazz with the same level of worry. "The real reason I had to split…" He twisted his hands nervously. "I had to. Tracks needed me."

"That's cool." Jazz just wanted to get out of here.

"No, it's not." He presented a datapad with an announcement all would hear in a few moments: leaves were officially permitted again, beginning with Tracks and Blaster's request to go to Raul's funeral in New York.

"We're too late. They already buried him, but T's talking about doing a memorial service."

Jazz hadn't even realized that was going on. "What happened?" Once the story had been told, the next reaction was "but that was the week before…" The week before Blaster had broken up with him!

"Yeah. He was a wreck after Prime made him come back here, and one night we were just hanging out and he totally lost it. I hugged him and it sort of went a different direction from there." Blaster grimaced apologetically. "After that, I couldn't stay with you, man. It wasn't fair."

"But you don't think of him that way!"

"He needed me, I helped him out, it's what friends do. No biggie."

Jazz thought it was. Tracks' need to for comfort had hurt a few others in the process, and the pool would more than likely expand before this whole ordeal was forgotten; however….

Blaster still stared at him hopefully as he pondered all of this.

However, if one of Jazz's closest friends had been in the same predicament, he would have done the same thing. He would have been there, he would have understood, he would have done the honorable thing and broken off whatever he had with someone else after a physical interaction. He would help out his extremely distressed best friend, even if he had to scramble to think up a pretty elaborate distraction; like a roller-skating basketball event. The thought made him chuckle. Blaster had apologized to him and meant it. The resentment melted.

"No biggie," he finally replied, smiling. All was forgiven. "Like I said, Blaster, past star systems." They shook hands before going back to work.

Blaster felt the bite of regret as the saboteur jauntily walked away. That mech had _class_.

* * *

Hound eyed Sunstreaker downing yet another glass of spiked energon. He looked like he'd been there for hours. "Hey, Sunny." 

Sunstreaker swayed. "I see three o' you, and I think I like it! Ooh, stood up too fast." He faltered, staggered, and fell. Hound caught him and Sunny found himself looking deep into those friendly, familiar blue optics he loved to be under.

To the Jeep's credit he didn't smirk. "Sunny…do you want to get out of here?"

He had no idea why he was drunk or why inebriation made temptation easy to obey. "Pittya!"

"This way." He guided the staggering mech out. "What was the occasion?"

"Siders quit watchin' porn," Sunstreaker called jubilantly.

"Good job," Hound purred condescendingly. "I think you should celebrate."

"I did." His legs wobbled as he reconsidered his companion. "But I wouldn't mind getting laid. It's been awhile."

Aha! "I think I can help you out there."

Sunny smiled, giggling over some unspoken joke. "Let's go."

* * *

"Jazz! Come in Jazz!' 

Fuzz fuzz fuzz fuzz fuzz Ultra Magnus fuzz fuzz fuzz Ultra Magnus fuzz Ultra Magnus waver Ultra Magnus-

"This is Sideswipe, reading you clearer than before!" This was the carrier's second attempt to contact the Autobots in two hours.

"Sideswipe?" He sounded slightly disappointed. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Jazz."

Innocent enough mistake. Sideswipe asked what he could do for the Cybertron branch of Prime's army.

"I was-uh-" He hesitated. "I wanted to ask Jazz about…something we talk about."

"If it's top secret I can't do anything. Jazz is helping somebody else right now."

"Oh. I just wondered-how-Tracks is doing."

"Tracks?" That was a strange question. Sunstreaker had told him about putting all of the clues together and realizing that Ultra Magnus missed his Corvette friend, but because it was not uppermost on the Lamborghini's processor he really did not consider this a normal query. "Tracks is fine." He shrugged. "He's going to New York again. Spends all his time with Blaster."

"Blaster?"

Ultra Magnus sounded confused over this. If the reception were better Sideswipe would have seen the hurt look a little better and realized what he'd done, but he was still thinking about ways to get back at Perceptor.

"Yeah. They're always kissing and snuggling and being disgusting, it makes me glad they're both leaving for awhile, just so we don't have to look at them."

"Blaster," he repeated faintly.

"Yeah. The tape player. Bright red. Likes humans. They're perfect for each other." What was wrong with this guy?

"Right." He had a face like a carved statue. "Tell Prime that we have to move again and will contact him when we've settled."

"Sure."

"Ultra Magnus out." His vocalizer wavered and he quickly turned away from the screen, hiding his face, before the shot went back to fuzz.

At that exact moment what Sideswipe had just said hit him like a charging Motormaster. "Oh no," he said, sitting down. "What did I do?"

* * *

Not thinking about Perceptor was as difficult as trying not to think about a pink turbo fox. There! He did it again! Anybody would. 

Sideswipe sighed. Usually when he wanted to forget about something he picked up a new obsession, like this pornography addiction. It hadn't been a bad distraction, until he was putting Perceptor in those pictures instead. Then it only exacerbated the problem.

Maybe he needed a better distraction.

"Hey Siders!" It was Jazz. "How did radio duty go?"

"Bad." He detailed his mess-up. "I think I got you in trouble."

"No. Somebody else isn't gonna be happy." He should be mad, but instead he felt sadder than anything. Blaster's misery would be unequivocal when he heard the tape and witnessed Tracks falling apart at Ultra Magnus' knowing. They both sighed, for different reasons.

"Sunny called off the dating thing after bumping windshields with Hound. I thought I'd warn you. He's still recovering in our room."

Again, Jazz felt no annoyance at this. They had to end the charade sooner or later. "You're done too, then, Sideswipe. Thanks for your help." He meant it. They had been terrific.

Sideswipe glanced at him. Jazz was alone, there was no porn to watch, and Sunny would need a nap after his encounter with Hound. "Not quite," he replied, reaching for the Porsche and enveloping him into his arms. "I think I owe you a severance package."

* * *

Astrotrain came online to a massive pain in his database. He felt fuzzy. His wrists and ankles hurt, too. Why was he tied down? 

"What happened?"

Starscream glared at him. "You defied Megatron, you were shot to pieces, I brought you back to functioning, and now he has a message for you." Starscream pressed play and smiled to himself as Astrotrain discovered that he was the loyal, reinstated Air Commander's newest slave indefinitely.

"Because you did not consider me a worthy master, you are now controlled by Starscream! Should you disobey, the restraining bolt somewhere in your circuits will fry you to a crisp!" Megaton chortled with a long-forgotten triumph over giving this news.

Astrotrain gulped. The darkness was descending on him as Starscream's shadow obscured the light.

"It's time to pay homage to your master," he growled.

* * *

He didn't have much to pack. Another black beam gun, some money, Raul's favorite _Hot Rod_ magazine, nothing much. His door swung open and Blaster stood in the doorway with a tape in his hand. 

"For me?" he asked. He'd almost forgotten that he hadn't heard from Ultra Magnus in awhile. The mech had slowly faded from his memory, but hearing from him was like hearing from a long-lost family member. Tracks was sure Blaster was just a distraction, a mistake that would be quickly rectified. Ultra Magnus was the real thing. Some day he'd tell him the truth, when they met again. He'd understand Tracks' motivation, he always did.

Blaster's face did not change. He tossed the tape onto Tracks' desk and it landed with a thunk.

"We need to talk," he said.

To Be Continued...


End file.
